Spellbound
by Vanillasiren
Summary: What can I say, I'm obsessed with '90's Disney's cartoons at the moment, and this pairing ... well, it kind of writes itself! The plot: Mozenrath offers to tutor Sadira in magic, in exchange for her help in saving his own life.
1. Chapter 1

Spellbound

Author's Note: Because it's probably going to come up at some point, let me just put this out there right now: This is _not_ going to be one of those stories in which Mozenrath turns out to be Aladdin's long-lost brother. I don't have anything against the idea; it's just not one I have an interest in exploring here. Also, for the purposes of this story, assume that Mozenrath somehow got his gauntlet back after "Two to Tangle." I'm not going to go into details with that, because again, that's not the focus of my story. Also keep in mind that this takes place sometime during the TV series, meaning Aladdin and Jasmine are not yet married. And no, without further ado, I give you …

Chapter 1: The Deal

Sadira and Jasmine dissolved into a fit of giggles after the princess managed to finish telling the story of Aladdin's latest disastrous attempt to give Rajah a bath. Not long ago, if anyone had told Sadira she'd be welcomed to the palace, much less laughing and talking with Princess Jasmine, she'd have thought they were crazy. She'd been a lonely street rat, outwardly tough but inwardly desperate for some shred of affection from someone, anyone. So desperate, in fact that she latched on the first person to show her any hint of kindness for as long as she could remember: Aladdin.

Her behavior in that regard still shamed her when she thought of it, but things had turned out surprisingly well. Where she had once only been able to see Jasmine as a rival for Aladdin's affections, she was now able to count her among a growing circle of friends. Sadira had to admit that the princess hadn't been what she'd expected, even back when she'd regarded her as an enemy. Far from the spoiled, sheltered girl she would have envisioned, Jasmine had turned out to be kind, resourceful, and generous. Not to mention forgiving.

"But enough about palace life," Jasmine said, when their laughter had subsided. "Tell me, Sadira, how are things going with you? Learning any more magic?" Initially, Sadira hadn't thought herself very capable with sorcery, but after managing to defeat the witches of the sand, she'd taken to studying it more seriously, especially the scrolls they'd left behind. Not only had she gained mastery over sand magic, but she was gradually learning a variety of other spells as well.

"Yes, I am. Though I must say, it's slow going. I really wish I could get into contact with some other sorcerers. You know, maybe get an apprenticeship somewhere. But at least I'm managing to make a decent living out of what magic I do know."

"Yes, I've heard good things about your protection spells," Jasmine said, smiling.

"Thanks. I'm even getting better at potions too, and those fetch a decent price on the open market. I mean okay, so I'm not rich, but it's …"

"Better than stealing, right?" Jasmine finished for her.

Sadira nodded. "Definitely. Speaking of magic," she asked, glancing around. "Where's your big blue friend? I wanted to ask him if he knew any others witches or sorcerers I could work with … good ones, of course," she added hastily.

"Oh, he's on a date."

"A date?" Sadira echoed, somewhat surprised.

"Yes. You see, a while back, Genie met … well, he met a female genie."

"Oh. Uh, they don't both go by 'Genie,' do they? 'Cause that could get kind of confusing."

Jasmine laughed. "No, thank goodness. Her name's Eden. After a small misunderstanding, she and Genie hit it off. They get together whenever they can."

Sadira sighed. "Well that's … nice, I guess."

Jasmine was puzzled as to why her friend suddenly seemed so dejected. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing … it's just … sometimes is seems like everyone has someone except me. I mean, am I so unlovable?"

Jasmine patted her friend's hand. "Of course you're not! You'll find love one of these days, I'm sure. Just as long as it's not my boyfriend." The fact that she could say that so playfully, without a hint of bitterness or malice, was a mark of what a true princess she was, Sadira thought. She didn't know if she would have been so easygoing if their positions had been reversed.

"Honestly, Jasmine, the more I think about all that awful stuff I did … it wasn't even really about Aladdin. I mean, I didn't want your boyfriend, I wanted the relationship you had with him. I wanted someone to look at me the way he looks at you. I still want that … if it makes any sense."

"Sure it does. Who doesn't want to be loved? Like I said, it'll happen for you. In the meantime, at least you know that you have friends."

Sadira smiled. "I really am grateful for your friendship." The moment was interrupted by a rumbling which shook the very foundations of the palace. The two women went tumbling off the cushions they were sitting on and onto the floor. Gradually, it subsided.

Sadira got up first. "You okay?"

"I think so," Jasmine said, as her friend helped to her feet.

"Any idea what that was?"

"Mozenrath!" Sadira turned to see Aladdin gliding into the room on Carpet, along with Iago and Abu. He was scowling.

"Wait … Mozenrath? That creepy sorcerer guy you told me about?"

Jasmine nodded, her expression mirroring Aladdin's. "That's the one."

"Right, and he had that … glove thing …"

"Gauntlet!" Iago squawked.

"I thought you got it away from him though."

"Yeah, well, he got it back," Aladdin's scowl deepened. He didn't like to be reminded of how he'd failed to keep the gauntlet out of Mozenrath's hands.

"And let me guess, he's decided to make you pay for taking it from him in the first place," Sadira concluded. Aladdin nodded, looking grim, and he took out the lamp.

"Well, I hate to interrupt Genie's date, but…" He rubbed the lamp, only to be greeted, not by the appearance of his friend, but by a ringing sound, followed by a voice: "Hello, you have reached Genie. I can't come to the lamp right now. Please leave a message at the beep. Beep!" He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the lamp again. "Genie, come on…" However, all that happened was that the message played over again.

"Great," he muttered. "How are we supposed to defeat Mozenrath without magic?"

Sadira cleared her throat. "Um, hello," she said pointedly, only to have Aladdin give her a blank stare. _Geesh._ She still thought he was kind of cute, but the boy could be awfully dense sometimes. How could she ever have had a crush on him?

"Witch, remember?" She said, pointing at herself.

Jasmine looked doubtful. "Sadira, are you sure? Mozenrath is our enemy, not yours, and you're still learning …"

"Hey, Agraba's my home too, and this guy is attacking it! Besides, right now, I'm the only magic you've got … unless you expect Carpet to, oh, I don't know, smother him or something."

Aladdin looked like he was about to reply, perhaps protest, but before he could say anything, a black-rimmed portal appeared above them, and Mozenrath himself stepped through.

Sadira was rather surprised; he didn't look like what she'd pictured in her head when Jasmine had talked about him. The princess had described him as "pale" and "scrawny," and it wasn't as though she hadn't been accurate; his skin was whiter than anyone she'd ever met, and he certainly didn't look like he had a problem with over-eating, but somehow, she hadn't quite expected …this.

He was luxuriously dressed, in dark but expensive clothing, and he moved with an elegant, almost careless confidence. Beneath his turban, a few black curls spilled out, in sharp contrast with his pallor, like ink strokes on paper. His eyes, as black as his hair, were locked on Aladdin with a look of intense dislike.

What's more, Sadira thought that she could actually _feel _his power, the energy of his magic crackling in the air. She'd hardly been sensitive to magic back when she was a mere street rat, but it was different now. The overall effect was rather intimidating. She swallowed. Could she really match her meager skills against him?

"Surrender now, Aladdin, and I promise to be merciful … oh, who are we kidding? You know I won't. After all, what would be the fun in that?" He smirked.

"Hee hee … no mercy." Said an extremely creepy voice, and Sadira gave an involuntary start as she noticed the … what _was_ that? A fish? A flying eel? Well, whatever it was, it was _gross_, and it was draped on the sorcerer's shoulder.

"Face it, Aladdin, without your genie, you're no match for my magic!" Mozenrath gloated, directing a blast of magical energy at him. Aladdin managed to successfully maneuver on Carpet to avoid it, inadvertently clearing a path straight towards Jasmine.

"No!" Sadira cried as the magical energy hurtled towards her friend. Her apprehension forgotten, she reacted on instinct, frantically reciting a protective incantation. Her own bolt of magic met with his, deflecting the energy away from the princess.

"What the –?" Mozenrath was caught completely off guard. Looking down, he spotted an unfamiliar young woman who looked to be around his age. For a moment, he thought she might be a visiting sovereign … but no, she wasn't dressed well enough for that. She had a large mass of rather bushy brown hair, dusky skin, and strikingly blue eyes, which looked rather exotic in contrast to the rest of her features. She didn't have the polished, smooth beauty of Princess Jasmine, but for a moment, he was struck by the unbidden though that she was rather striking … in an unkempt sort of way.

"Who are you?" He demanded, and she looked up at him defiantly.

"I'm the witch who's gonna kick your butt, that's who!" She snapped, directing a strong but unfocused blast of magic at him. He was easily able to deflect it, and he didn't fail to notice that she was now unsteady on her feet, staggering in the blowback of her own spell.

"Amateur." He sneered, and she scowled.

"I am not!" Again, she tried to blast him, and again, he easily deflected.

"Oh yes you are," He countered. Going on the offensive, he directed a bolt of energy at her. She managed to counter it, but only just.

"Not bad … for a beginner," he said mockingly. Taking advantage of the fact that Mozenrath was focused on Sadira, Aladdin glided up to him on carpet. He tried to pull the gauntlet off his hand, and was struck to the ground for his trouble. Jasmine ran to him.

"Aladdin, are you alright?" He was wincing.

"I'm okay, Jasmine."

Mozenrath chuckled malevolently. "Not for long – hey!" He snapped, as an attack from Sadira caught him off guard. The blast sent him hurtling through the air and out the palace window. Sadira followed, looking out on the balcony, but there was no trace of him. _Oh my god, did I just kill someone?_ Even though he'd been trying to hurt her friends, she felt sickened at the thought.

"Looking for me, little witch?" He said, suddenly floating above her. He laughed at her shocked expression. "Don't look so surprised. If you weren't such an amateur, you'd know I couldn't be defeated so easily." She felt a curious combination of relief and annoyance.

"I'll show you who's an amateur!" She said, directing a binding spell at him. At her bidding, magical ropes appeared, flowing from her hands to wrap around his wrists. He didn't seem particularly bothered, but rather amused. He grasped one of the ropes with his gloved hand, using the subsequent magical feedback to pull her off the balcony and towards him as he was floating in mid-air. His arm snaked around her waist, and he smirked as he saw her eyes go wide with fear.

"What are you so worried about? Even if I were to drop you, you could just … oh, wait. Don't tell me you haven't mastered levitation yet?" He could read the answer in her expression. "You really are a novice, aren't you?"

She scowled, wanting to wriggle out of his grasp, but was afraid of falling to her death if she did. "Don't worry, little witch," he continued, in a tone that could only be described as patronizing. "I won't let you fall." Now more humiliated than frightened, Sadira felt her face go red. She clamped her hand onto his gloved one. If he could tap into magical feedback, so could she!

"My name," she hissed. "Is not 'little witch.' It's Sadira!"

The feedback sent a jolt of pain through his body, and with a small cry he let go of her. Sadira's feeling of triumph was short-lived, however, as she realized she was hurtling toward the earth. Acting on pure survival instinct, she screamed out an incantation, and found herself stopping several feet from the ground. _That was close!_

"Sadira, are you okay?" Aladdin was asking her. He had dove down on carpet in an attempt to save her.

"I think so … hey, look at me! I'm levitating!" She exclaimed happily, righting herself so that "stood" upright, even though her feet didn't touch the ground.

"Not bad," came an amused voice from above them, and they both looked up to see Mozenrath still floating above them. His eyes lingered on Sadira appraisingly. "Maybe you have some potential after all."

Sadira was just about to snap back a tart reply when there was a flash of blue magic and Genie appeared. Beside him was a green-skinned woman; she could only guess it was his girlfriend, Eden.

"Genie!" Aladdin cried happily.

"You rang, Al?" Genie smiled. "Better late than never, right?"

"You again!" Eden snapped, catching sight of Mozenrath. "I'll teach you to mess with my friends."

The young sorcerer scowled. "We'll see about that."

Aladdin and Sadira, now seated on Carpet, flew up to face him. "Give it up Mozenrath!" Aladdin said. "You can't fight all of us. You've lost."

Mozenrath's gaze flicked between the two genies and the powerful but unschooled sorceress. Much as he hated to admit it, Aladdin was right. Even with his newly restored gauntlet, he'd be unlikely to defeat all three of them. It was time for a strategic withdrawal.

"Maybe for now. But this isn't over, street rat. Not by a long shot." With a practiced ease, he opened a portal to his own realm, glancing over his shoulder as he departed. "Be seeing you, little witch."

"Sadira!" She corrected angrily, but he'd already vanished.

Jasmine ran out on the balcony, Abu and Iago by her side. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine, Jasmine. Looks like the fight is over."

"At least for the time being," Sadira added.

"Hey, nice work by the way. You're getting better at this magic stuff, huh?"

She smiled at Aladdin, feeling rather proud of herself. "Thanks for noticing." They slid off carpet and onto the balcony. The group made their way back into the palace, and Sadira and Eden were formally introduced. She and Genie made a cute couple, Sadira thought.

"Never a dull moment around the palace, is there?" She remarked to Jasmine as everyone settled down.

"I guess not. Thanks again for your help, by the way."

Sadira waved her hand. "Eh, it was nothing. Least I could do." She paused. "So … that was Mozenrath, then."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You didn't say he was so …" Sadira trailed off, and Jasmine looked at her friend questioningly.

"What?"

"Uh, powerful." Sadira finished.

"Actually, I thought I did. In any case, you managed to stand up to him."

"Barely."

"Still, you did it. It seems you're better at magic than you thought."

"Maybe, but not good enough. I'd better start practicing for next time."

"Next time?"

"Oh come on Jasmine, he doesn't exactly strike me as the giving-up type."

Jasmine nodded. "You have a point." She glanced outside, startled to see it was nearly dusk.

"It's getting late," said Sadira, following her gaze. "I should get going."

"Oh no, you don't have to leave yet –"

"Jasmine, it's okay. I'm getting tired, anyway." And truth be told, being around two happy couples was only reminding her that she was alone. She'd rather go home and bury herself in spell books that watch them all be all lovey-dovey. She pulled her friend into a hug. "I'll come visit again soon, I promise. Have a good night."

She said her goodbyes to the rest of the group, and made her way out of the palace and back home.

A little while later, Sadira was contentedly absorbed by the contents of one of her magic books, trying to find spells that might throw Mozenrath for a loop the next time they met. She was almost looking forward to encountering him again; after all, it wasn't like there was anyone else around against whom she could match her magical skills. And she had to admit a sort of grudging respect for his abilities.

"He's barely older than me, and he's already been able to use magic to conquer a whole kingdom," she muttered to herself. "It's impressive."

"I'm flattered." With a yelp of surprise, Sadira jumped up, the book falling at her feet as the Mozenrath appeared before her. She reacted quickly, shooting a spell at him, and naturally, he deflected. Frustrated, she summoned the energy for another volley, but Mozenrath held up his hands.

"Easy, little witch. I come in peace." Beside him, his little eel-thing scowled, apparently displeased at this statement.

"Not likely. And stop calling me that!"

"Sadira, then. And actually, it's true. I have an offer to make you."

"I'm not interested," she snapped, but he merely smiled.

"Oh, don't say that till you've heard me out."

"I don't care what you have to say. You tried to hurt my friends!"

"Look, the thing is, you're powerful, but you're undisciplined," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "You've been learning magic haphazard, piecemeal, because you've had to teach it to yourself. What you need is someone with more experience guiding your magical development. Someone like … me."

Stunned, Sadira lowered her defensive posture. "You're offering to teach me?" Of course, this was the exact situation she'd been searching for – well, except for the fact that he happened to be evil, and was bent or world domination, _and _wanted to cause harm to her friends. She couldn't exactly ignore all that. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, I'm dead serious." He moved closer to her. "Come on, Sadira. You've got to admit my offer has a certain appeal. I can see it in your eyes. You want to say yes." She scoffed.

"I'm not going to work to say yes! Besides the fact that you're evil and completely untrustworthy, it would be a betrayal of my friends."

Mozenrath shook his head. "Do you realize how good a sorceress you could be with the proper guidance? You'd really choose friendship over power?"

Sadira hesitated, and then answered "Every time," hoping she sounded surer than she felt.

"Would you? And here I thought you were more ambitious than that. Pity. But I suppose we could still work something out. What if I promise not to hurt your friends?"

"I'd say you can't possibly think I'd be so stupid as to trust your promise."

"And you'd be right. Which is why I propose we enter into a binding magical contract. I take it you're familiar with such a thing?"

"I am."

"Good. The terms will prevent me from attacking Agraba or any of its citizens for the duration of your training. Once we're done, of course, all bets are off."

Sadira paused to consider. "I see. And if I agree to this, what exactly is in it for you?"

Mozenrath cocked his head. "Would you believe the pleasure of seeing a pretty young sorceress reach her full potential?" He asked with faux-sweetness.

"Yeah right, tell me another one," she snorted.

"Okay, so obviously that's not it." He paused, seeming almost unsure of himself for the first time. "I'm looking for something … more specifically, a place. Have you ever heard of Avalon?" Her blank look told him the answer was no, so he explained. "It's an island, the ancestral home of a magical race that left its shores long a go. There's a plant that grows there, and it can save my life. I don't know if your little friends told you this, but … my gauntlet …"

"Will eventually kill you, yes, I know." She felt a sudden flash of sympathy for him, though she didn't know why. He cleared his throat.

"Yes, well … the point is, I don't want to die. So I've been trying to locate this island. You can only find your way there by magic, but my spells have not strong been enough to decipher the way to its shores. Not without help."

"So … you expect me to help you find this … Avalon?" Sadira asked, and she nodded. "Why are you asking me, and not some other sorcerer with more experience?"

"Because … I don't really have anything to offer another sorcerer. In fact, most of them would be happy to see me die, so they could have a shot at taking over as the most powerful sorcerer of our age. So that leaves a novice … like you."

Sadira scowled. "I'm not as much of a novice as you seem to think."

"Maybe not, but you've still got a long way to go." He countered. "Look Sadira, I'm taking a risk here too. The contract will require that I teach you to the best of my abilities; I'll be as bound by the terms as you are. Which means, when we go our separate ways, if and when I decide to attack Agraba, I'll be going up against someone who learned from the best."

"Well, don't you have a high opinion of yourself!" Sadira snapped, but he could see he was beginning to win her over.

"It's well-earned." He said. He extended his good hand. "So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Sadira looked down at his outstretched hand. _This is a bad idea_, she told herself, even as she felt her heart beat faster in excitement. To learn magic from one someone as powerful and skilled as him … how could she pass up such an opportunity? And what about the opportunity to help save someone's life, even if it was his? Surely that couldn't be a bad thing. Not entirely. And the contract would keep him from hurting her friends … at least for a while.

Sadira took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, and grasped his hand.

Mozenrath gave her a feral smile. "Excellent," he whispered. The air swirled about them, and indication of the magic that was sealing the bargain, and she felt herself shiver involuntarily in fear, or anticipation, or both.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

Spellbound

Chapter 2: First Lessons

Sadira scowled down at the open book in her lap. When she'd made her bargain with Mozenrath, she felt the experience had the potential to be many things. Exciting, dangerous, disastrous, beneficial, life-altering … the list went on. One thing she certainly hadn't anticipated was that it would be _boring_. Dull. Tedious even. At least to start.

Normally, she rather enjoyed reading; her spell scrolls and books had always contained vivid descriptions and colorfully worded incantations which she had found easy to memorize. The problem was, this wasn't a spell book; it was a grammar book. A Latin grammar book, to be precise. According to Mozenrath, Latin was one of the major base languages for spells, and every decent sorcerer had at least a working knowledge of it, even if they used another tongue in the majority of their own spell work – which Sadira herself did, preferring Sanskrit.

When she'd pointed out that Mozenrath himself didn't even bother to use any language at all, much less a magic-related one, he'd reminded her, in that arrogant way of his, that he was far beyond the level of needing to use verbal incantations for every little thing, and she had a long way to go to get to _his_ level, assuming she ever did. Privately, Sadira thought it was really the gauntlet that allowed him to cast wordless spells, but for once, she'd kept her mouth shut, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

She'd been working on Latin for weeks, and she still felt like she could barely recognize a handful of the words. Studying was all very well and good, but Sadira had always learned best by doing. Now, if only Mozenrath would recognize that … but so far, the only instruction he'd given her was that she needed to be careful. _Careful._ _Yeah, right._ As if she needed to worry about getting herself into trouble while she conjugated verbs.

Okay, so many she had a tendency not to think things through sometimes. Mozenrath had cited the example from when they'd done battle, and she'd tapped into the magical feedback to get him to release her, only to send herself plummeting to a near-death. The fact that she was able to prevent said death, he'd argued, didn't negate that she needed to learn not to be so reckless and impulsive. And she supposed that was a fair point.

But still, proceeding with caution was one thing. Going nowhere was another. And these Latin grammars were starting to feel like nothing more than a waste of time. She shut the book with an exasperated sigh.

As if that were a cue, Mozenrath suddenly appeared, stepping through one of the portals he always seemed to create with such obvious ease. Sadira had to admit to herself that it impressed her, even now. Still, she didn't let that show on her face, greeting him with a discontented frown. At least, she noted, he'd left his creepy little eel at home this time. She got the feeling that the thing – Xerxes, he called it – didn't like her that much. If so, the feeling was mutual.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" She asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, and if you managed to conjure up a door to the place, I might consider it."

"I could manage that, if you were actually _teaching_ me, instead of just handing me a bunch of grammar books!"

"Ooh, are you having trouble with the big, scary words, little witch? Just take your time and sound them out –"

The mocking tone is his voice was too much for her, so Sadira threw the book at him – literally. Caught unawares, he didn't use his magic to repel it, and it hit him square in the face. He staggered back slightly, and Sadira was reminded of how physically weak his body was, despite the powerful magic he wielded, because the gauntlet was literally draining his life away. She couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for her impulsive action.

"I'm –" Her apology was cut off as he directed a blast of magic in her direction. There was a rage in his eyes that terrified her, and despite their contract, for an instant she believed he was really going to hurt her, maybe even kill her. In a panic, her mind seized upon the only Latin spell she'd really read so far.

"Fulminus venite!"* Sadira watched in wonder as a bolt of lighting – an actual _bolt of lightning_ – met the magic of the gauntlet and pushed it back. Then their magics mixed, coalescing on the sealing and finally dissipating, though the air remained charged with a thrilling energy. She looked back at Mozenrath, to find no trace of anger on his face. In fact, he looked almost … proud.

"Not bad," he said softly. "Not bad at all."

"That was a test," Sadira realized.

"Yes, and you passed."

"You … you didn't have to scare my like that, you know." She was trying hard to be angry at him, but she was too exhilarated by her accomplishment to get upset.

"Actually, I did. I needed you to be in fear, even for your life. It's easy to wield magic in a controlled environment, Sadira; in fact, almost anyone can do that, with a little practice. It's much harder to channel magical energy when strong emotions take hold. And I have to say, you managed beautifully." He smiled at her, not his usual sneer, but a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile, and Sadira grinned back.

"Mozenrath, did you actually just pay me a compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your pretty little head. You have a …"

"Long way to go, yes, I know that," She finished for him. "You've only mentioned that about a zillion times before."

"Well then," he said. "Considering your success, I suppose we could try a little more hands-on magic today. Though I do still expect you to keep up with the Latin," he added. He picked up the book that had landed at his feet, walked over, and handing it back to her.

"Really?" Sadira was looking up at him eagerly, all wide-eyed in hopeful delight. Mozenrath had to admit that her almost child-like enthusiasm for magic was rather … endearing, in its way.

Not that he'd tell her that, of course.

"Really."

She leaned closer to him. "Then show me more spells."

And he did, from that time on, Sadira did her best not to complain about studying Latin. They settled into a routine; he would drop off the books, they would exchange barbs, and, when he felt she'd been working hard enough on learning the language, he would reward her by showing her another spell and letting her practice it. Sometimes the spells were in Latin, the language she was just beginning to understand; other times they were in Sanskrit, and with those she felt surer of herself, though she had to admit, the Latin spells were more exciting to try, perhaps because they seemed so foreign. After struggling with it in the beginning, the language was coming to her much easier now.

Meanwhile, Mozenrath had to admit (at least to himself, if not to her) that he was rather surprised at her rapid progress. She had a keen mind and excellent memorization skills; her only real obstacle to being a great sorceress was her own irrepressible personality. She was excitable, impatient, and sometimes careless. She needed to exercise more caution and more self-control.

And yet, paradoxically, he found himself drawn to her fervent, impulsive nature. She was … fun.

The thought had come to him without warning, and he did his best to dismiss the notion. Acquiring power, now_ that _was fun. Ruling the seven deserts and decimating his enemies – that would be fun. And oh yes, _living _would be fun. He hadn't made this bargain with the little sand witch so he could enjoy her company. He'd made it so he could survive and continue his quest for power, because power was the only thing that mattered. Things like friendship and love, the things she foolishly persisted in believing in – those were illusions, ones that always faded over time. As he knew all too well …

Recognizing the unproductive direction his thoughts were moving in, Mozenrath shifted his focus to the book that lay on his table. Like the other books he'd shared with Sadira, it was in Latin. But unlike them, it didn't contain grammar lessons. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of her reaction when he showed her exactly what this book was.

"Xerxes," he said, and the eel instantly appeared. The creature was probably the only living thing on Earth that would actually look happy to see him. Not that he cared about such things, of course.

Though sometimes, the way Sadira's eyes would light up when he appeared, right before she remembered to snap at him for rudely entering her home without permission, he almost thought she looked ….

Well, of course she looked happy. She was learning magic from the most powerful sorcerer of their age, after all. They were using each other, and they both knew it. It was a business arrangement.

"Master?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Mozenrath addressed his familiar. "I need you to keep an eye on things while I go out."

"Where Master go?"

Mozenrath frowned. Xerxes didn't usually ask a lot of questions, but then, he'd been behaving rather oddly lately.

"That's not any of your concern. Do as I say."

The eel scowled. "Master go to see stupid little sand witch again," he concluded irritably.

"She is _not _stupid!" Mozenrath snapped. "She's … useful. Or at least she's going to be soon."

Xerxes shook his head. "Master spend too much time with witch. Not enough time with …"

"What?"

"Um … other things. More important things."

"You think keeping myself alive isn't important, Xerxes?"

"No!" The eel exclaimed, chastened. "No, master must live! But witch, she not help."

"Not yet. But she will."

"Not much time," Xerxes countered.

"Time enough," Mozenrath replied. He picked up the book. "And this should speed the process up considerably."

"What is it? What's in it?" Sadira asked a short while later. He'd placed the book on her table, and she hadn't been able to take her eyes off it. She was drawn to it, just as he had been the first time he'd seen it, just as he still was today.

"What do you think?"

"Well it's …" she approached the table. Hesitantly, she ran her hands over it, and shivered slightly. Someone unacquainted with magic would have felt nothing, but he knew she was getting a sense of its powerful energy. "It's definitely not a grammar book, that's for sure."

"It's called The Grimorum Arcanorum. It's the most comprehensive and powerful spell book in existence, supposedly."

Sadira's fingers brushed the cover. "Yeah, I could believe that." Her tone was almost reverent. She looked up at him. "Can I …?"

"Go ahead."

She opened the book and began excitedly flipping through the pages. Her eyes skimmed the text for familiar words, and she was pleased to be able to make out most of them. She paused however, on a term that was unfamiliar.

"Mozenrath, what does this mean? 'Saeti?' What is that –"

"No!" He cried out, but it was too late. Sadira found out exactly what the word meant as a rain of fiery arrows suddenly appeared and plummeted down towards her. For once, her old street rat reflexes failed her, and she looked up in horrified fascination, frozen in place.

Mozenrath grabbed her, dragging her away from the table and out of their path. The arrows plunged into the ground, and their flames seemed to be smothered by the sand, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.

"What were you thinking?" He hissed, shaking her slightly. "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"What do you mean what was_ I_ thinking? You're the one who gave me the damn book!"

"I gave it to you to read and study, not to start blurting out spells with no thought as to the havoc they might wreak!"

"I'm, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would … I didn't think I could do that … it was just one word …"

"You didn't realize how powerful you are, Sadira. How powerful you can be." Suddenly his voice was low, almost soothing. "_You need to be more careful._ I don't keep telling you that because I enjoy repeating myself. You need to listen to me, alright?"

Sadira let out a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay. Point taken. Be more careful. I go it." She turned to look at him, and it was then that they realized they were clinging to each other. They hastily drew apart.

"Thanks." She said softly.

"For what?"

"For … saving me, I guess."

Mozenrath avoided her gaze. "Yeah, well, we have a deal so …" He shrugged. "You're of no use to me if you're dead."

"Wow. That's really a touching sentiment."

He looked up at her then. "I don't do sentiment, Sadira."

"Yeah, I've noticed that. So … does that conclude the lesson for today, or …?"

He studied her, considering. She'd been understandably shaken just a moment ago, but she seemed to have quickly regained her composure. This girl was tough. He could respect that, at least.

"No," he decided. "We'll go through some of the spells in the Grimorum, together. Just … don't blurt out any more unfamiliar words, okay?"

Sadira smiled slightly. "Okay." Gingerly, they made their way back to the table, and the book.

"First page, Sadira," he instructed firmly. "None of that skipping around you like to do."

She rolled her eyes, but for once, she decided not answer him back, and they began.

*Latin, roughly translated as "Come lightning!"


	3. Chapter 3

Spellbound

Author's Note: Well, my friends, you've done it. Your continued reviews, both signed and unsigned, have finally convinced me to pick this story back up after a looooong hiatus. I hope I can live up to expectations after all this time. Before I continue, however, there's something I'd like to state for the record.

This story is going to contain a bit of a crossover element with another Disney animated series, "Gargoyles." Like "Aladdin," the show is a sentimental favorite of mine. Those of you familiar with the show may have notice references in the preceding chapters to the "Gargoyles" universe. Early on, I decided against labeling this as a crossover story, because the focus is (rightly) on Sadira and Mozenrath. Any references to "Gargoyles" will be about magic-related stuff, and the inherently magical characters from that show. For those of you not familiar with "Gargoyles," you may still recognize some of the references from their original sources in myth or literature. I just thought this is something people might like to know to avoid any confusion.

And now, after that rather long-winded explanation, I give you …

Chapter 3: Reflections

Latin had been tedious at first, Sadira thought to herself, but it was well worth every minute of boredom, because the Grimorum Arcanorum was mostly in Latin. Indeed, its very name was Latin. "Spell book of secrets," she whispered, almost to herself, at the end of their latest lesson, when she'd taken a moment to translate. She'd been so eager to look at the spells inside it that she hadn't even thought what the name meant. She glanced over at Mozenrath, to see him almost smiling in approval – or perhaps it was amusement that it had taken her so long to puzzle out the meaning of the title? It was often hard to tell with him.

"The name's a bit on the nose, don't you think?" She asked him, trying to adopt a careless attitude. The smile became a smirk – she wasn't fooling him for a minute – and he shrugged.

"It's an apt description," he said simply. The book still lay open between them, and Mozenrath leaned in slightly, running his good hand over the page, over the razed ink of the words. There was something strangely gentle about the gesture, almost like a caress, and for some reason it made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Why are some of the pages blank?" She asked, speaking more loudly than she meant to. He straightened then, and withdrew his hand, his attention focused back on her.

"Sorcerers had been adding spells to the book for centuries," he told her. "According to what I've heard, it's tradition for each sorcerer who possesses it to add their own spells on the spaces provided, and then add more blank pages themselves, so whoever it passes to next can continue the cycle."

"So the book isn't finished."

"It's _never_ finished, Sadira. That's the beauty of it. That's why it's so powerful."

"Maybe we could add a spell to it someday." She spoke impulsively, without thinking, and he raised his eyebrows at her. She looked away quickly, embarrassed.

Of course, it had been a stupid thing to say. That kind of collaboration between two sorcerers would require a great deal of trust, a deep understanding and appreciation for each other. And she and Mozenrath were not friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, they barely managed a mutual respect for each other, if you could even call it that. He would not have sought her out for any other reason other than his own self-interest; she needed to remember that.

She expected him to say something sarcastic, even hurtful, but for once, he didn't seem to have a comeback. They both gazed at the book for a long moment.

"Some say the blank pages have a power of their own, even before the spells are written on them." His voice broke through the awkward silence that had grown between them, and she felt a small wave of relief wash over her.

"What do you mean?" She asked, but he just shrugged again.

"Precisely what I said. I don't have any more information than that. In any case, I think we're done with today's lesson. You're tired."

She was. The Grimorum was full of powerful spells, and the more powerful the magic, the more exertion it took on the part of the sorcerer to wield it. Still, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting she was fatigued.

"I'm fine. But if _you_ want to stop working, I suppose that's enough for today."

He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, but decided not to bother with an actual retort. He picked up the book. "Until next time, little witch."

She wasn't surprised that he was taking the Grimorum with him. It was more unexpected that he'd let her look at in the first place. He'd certainly never leave it with her. This wasn't a man who shared power.

"Would it kill you to stop calling me that, Mozenrath?"

"It might." He did smile then, just a little. He always looked better with a smile, she thought – it softened his features somehow. Much better a smile than with a smirk or a sneer. "So I better no risk it," he continued.

Sadira bit back a smile of her own. "Just go," she said, and he did.

Afterwards, Sadira found herself feeling strangely crestfallen. After a moment, she decided the absence of the Grimorum could account for her strange mood. She'd never been the presence of an object that seemed so imbued with magic – not her own spell scrolls, and not even the Staff of Doom itself.

In addition, she wondered he meant, with all that talk about the blank pages. Something told her that, despite his words to the contrary, Mozenrath knew more than he was saying.

That was the thing about Mozenrath, she thought, as she went about preparing herself supper. Interacting with him was like playing a game of chess against a very skilled opponent. You had to think three moves ahead just to stay in the game.

Not for the first time, she reflected on how different it was to spend time with someone like him, as opposed to her friends. She may not like him as a person – well of course she didn't, how could she? – but he was … a challenge. He kept her on her toes, and not just with the magic. In the brief moments when he seemed genuine rather than simply arrogant, when it seemed like he might be regarding her with something approaching fondness, she reminded herself that these small gestures could easily be a subtle form of manipulation. Indeed, that was the most likely explanation. She needed to keep reminding herself of that.

Mozenrath might not suspect it, but Sadira was no stranger to manipulation herself. She'd manipulated Aladdin, after all, back when she was still infatuated with him. It had been quite easy to convince to come to her place for a drink, just by implying that he let Jasmine control all his actions. In fact, she had almost been disappointed by how simple it had been to get him to do what she wanted. She wouldn't call Aladdin stupid, but for someone who'd grown up on the streets, just as she had, he was surprisingly … naïve? Was that the right word? He could think on his feet, certainly, but he had no subtlety. Whereas Mozenrath …

Well, Mozenrath was Mozenrath. And she wasn't going to waste the rest of the night thinking about him, that was for sure. He wasn't worthy of –

The sting of smoke in her eyes broke into her thoughts. The bread was burning. Again.

"Damn it!" She said out loud, turning off the heat. She sighed, scraping of the black, burnt part off the loaf as best she could. Then she set it on the table with the rest of the meal, and sat down to eat. She started in on the soup, which tasted just fine. At least she'd managed that part well enough.

-Line Break-

"'Why are some of the pages blank?'" Mozenrath muttered to himself. "A good question, little witch. You just might be useful to me yet."

"Who Master talking to?" Xerxes asked.

Mozenrath started slightly. He hadn't realized he'd spoken his thoughts out loud. "No one," he said brusquely.

"Witch use book?"

"She practiced some of the spells, if that's what you mean. But no, she didn't find the one we need, the one that will take us to Avalon."

"Mozenrath not tell her book's secret?" The eel asked anxiously, and he felt his temper flare. He'd explained the rules to Xerxes before, and he didn't like repeating herself.

"I told you," he snapped, grabbing his familiar in a vise-like hold. "That's not the way it works! She _has_ to figure it out on her own."

Xerxes knew better than to struggle. "Master _sure_ witch is smart enough to –?"

"Of course she is!" He snapped impatiently. "The most brilliant sorcerer I've ever –"'

He broke off. Still in his grasp, Xerxes was staring at him. Mozenrath let him go.

"Leave me. I wish to rest. Don't wake me unless it's important." Not waiting for a response, he turned from his minion and walked out of the main hall, to the seclusion of his more private rooms.

The bedchamber was spacious, simply but expensively furnished. And unlike his lab, which was full of the magical books and artifacts he'd "inherited" from Destane, everything in here was new. He'd burned all of the man's belongings that could even remotely be considered personal. The very thought of sleeping on the same sheets the twisted old bastard had laid his bones down on every night … it had made his stomach turn.

He wondered, not for first the time, how he had managed to hide his contempt from Destane for long enough to usurp his power. "He was like a father to me," he'd once told Aladdin. A father, indeed.

A father he wanted to kill.

It had been difficult back then, to conceal his seething hatred. In fact, it had probably been the most difficult thing he'd ever done. But it had been worth it, in the end. For power. Always for power.

And revenge…

Mozenrath closed his eyes. _Think of something else_, he commanded himself. _Even think of Sadira, if you must._

Sadira did have a disturbing way of entering into his thoughts completely unbidden. It was most annoying when he was trying to concentrate on something. He supposed it was because she was really the only person he interacted with on a consistent basis. And she was so different from Jasmine, the only other girl around their age that he a passing familiarity with.

Jasmine bore the name of a flower, he knew, but he'd always thought the princess was more like a jewel than a blossom. She was smooth, polished and pampered by the privilege of her birth. She'd never had to work a day in her life. She'd never been hungry, really hungry – for power, or food, or anything else.

Well, not everyone was given such a life of plenty. Some had to fight for it, had to claw their way over the dead and dying to get to it. One thing he could respect about Sadira was that she was making her own way; she hadn't had anything handed to her.

But Jasmine was beautiful, of course, and so he coveted her – just as one might covet a jewel. He wanted her the way he wanted riches or power. She was another thing he could see himself having, another fine silk, another golden goblet, another status symbol to add to his collection.

But _Sadira_. Sadira was …

_Sadira was what?_ He asked himself angrily. If Jasmine was a jewel, well then, Sadira was a tool. Not as pretty perhaps, but much more useful. Yes, that was the way he should think of her. That was precisely the way. A tool to be used and discarded, that's what she was to him.

And soon this clever tool, this instrument, would figure out the mystery of the Grimorum, and he could do just that.

Satisfied he had put his thoughts in order, Mozenrath lay down on the bed. The familiar ache in his fleshless right arm began, but this time, he was too weary to let it keep him from sleep.

He dreamt of her.

There was nothing shocking, nothing exciting about her appearance. She simply stood before him, dressed as she normally was. Her eyes were bright, and very clear.

"I won't be wielded." There was none of the usual fire in her voice. She spoke calmly and firmly, as if reciting a simple, immutable fact.

"Yes you will," he told her, annoyed. "We have a contract."

"That's not what I meant." She leaned in then, to whisper in his ear. "I will be the instrument, the tool you wield to save your own life, but no more. I won't be your weapon."

As she pulled back, he grinned. "We'll see about that, Sadira."

She looked almost sad. "Do you think only in terms of using?"

"What other way is there to think, my dear little witch?"

Then, to his horror her face changed into an even more familiar one.

"You used to know," the little girl said tearfully.

Mozenrath woke up gasping for air, and did not sleep for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Spellbound

Author's Note: Because more than one person has asked, I'd like to note that the little girl at the end of Mozenrath's dream in the last chapter is _not_ Sadira as a child. Sadira and Mozenrath do not share some long-forgotten past – at least, not in my story. And now:

Chapter 4: Complications

There was something about the Grimorum.

There was something, _something_ she wasn't seeing. But it was something he wanted her to see. It had to be. It's not like he'd just let her use the Grimorum because … because he _liked _her or something. Or even because of their contract. There was an ulterior motive behind everything he did.

And surely, if the Grimorum was the most powerful spell book in all existence, as he claimed, _surely _there must be something in it that would lead to the ultimate goal: Avalon.

But as far as Sadira had been able to tell, there was nothing written about this mystic island within the pages of the book. True, she'd only perused it once, but she'd looked it over pretty thoroughly, not knowing if Mozenrath would be willing to share it with her a second time. In fact, the more she thought about it, he probably shouldn't have been willing to share with her at all. There had to be something in it that showed the way to the island. But if that was true, why he didn't just tell her what it was?

Sadira paused in her musings. Mozenrath liked to play his games, she knew, liked to orchestrate his little manipulations of her, but the whole reason he'd sought her out in the first place was because it was a matter of life and death. So she sincerely doubted he was being so subtle just because he enjoyed toying with her.

So that must mean – it could _only_ mean – that she had to figure out the mystery of the book on her own, in order for the magic to work.

Something about the blank pages … perhaps they had hidden spells on them? But then, how to make those spells appear?

Within a sudden flash of insight, Sadira turned on her heel and strode over to where she kept all of her own magical writings, "inherited" from the witches of the sand. She seemed to remember something, something in one of them, some phrase that about "uncovering what is hidden from the eyes" …

It took several hours, but Sadira eventually discovered the solution. She ought to have been pleased with herself.

But the realization of what needed to be done to expose the spell made her feel slightly queasy. It wasn't that she was scared of the pain; she'd certainly endured worse, and besides, it wouldn't take that much to do it. It was just ... this was …

"Dark magic."

"Don't be stupid. There's no such thing."

She should've been startled by the sound of his voice, but somehow, she wasn't. In fact, she couldn't even find in herself to snap at him for arriving unannounced, as he usually did.

"How long have you been watching me, Mozenrath?" She asked. She didn't even bother to turn around. "How long have you been waiting for me to figure it out?"

"Not as long as I anticipated." She finally turned to look at him them. He carried the Grimorum under his arm, and there was a slightly mocking smile on his face, but somehow (perhaps she only imagined it) he looked rather apprehensive.

"What did you mean, there's no such thing as dark magic?"

"Precisely what I said. Magic isn't dark, Sadira – or light, or good, or bad, or whatever other moralistic label you want to toss around. Magic is –"

"A tool?"

A shocked look flashed across his features, before he remembered to put his smirk back in place.

"Exactly. A tool." He walked over to where Sadira kept her cooking supplies, and he picked up her knife. He held it out, almost as if offering to her. "Just like this."

Sadira swallowed. "You could hurt someone with that knife."

"Yes. But you could just as easily cut the ropes that bind them. Set them free."

"You think I need freeing, Mozenrath?"

He advanced on her then, invading her personal space, getting his face right in hers.

"I think your misguided loyalty to your 'friends' is holding you back, Sadira."

She felt her face grow warm, but she met his gaze defiantly.

"So … what?" She challenged. "So I should be loyal to you, instead? Is that what you're saying? Now that would be _really_ stupid, wouldn't it?"

He appeared to consider for a moment, and then he laughed, softly. "Yes, I suppose it would be." His smiled faded. He put the book down on the table between them, opened it to one of the blank pages.

"Do you want to do it, or should I?"

That wasn't concern she heard in his voice. It couldn't be.

Sadira took a deep breath and held out her arm. "You do it." Why was trembling? Damn it, this wasn't that big of a deal …

"Very well." And yet he stood there, with the knife in his hand, hesitating …

"Do it!" She snapped at him. "Do it and get it over with!"

The knife slashed across her skin. Sadira gasped in pain, but quickly turned her wounded arm over, to let the blood drip onto the blank page. One, two, three – and then there was a blaze of light, and the words appeared, rimmed in red, as if written in fire:

_Vocate venti fortunate ex rege Mabis et hic navis flugem regate ad orae Avalonis_

"And there it is," Mozenrath said softly. "You've found the hidden spell, just as I did." And then, before she could even react, he had produced a cloth, and he was wrapping it around the gash on her arm. She immediately felt a soothing coolness, and knew he must have soaked it in some sort of salve before coming to see her.

"This should heal you in a few minutes," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. The pain was just a memory now.

"Thanks." Her own voice was almost a whisper. "That spell …"

"You understand it, don't you?"

"Of course I do." She said evenly, though she still felt a bit shaky. "'_Come winds, safely from the kingdom/shores of Mab and guide this ship through the waves to the shores of … Avalon.'"_

He smiled at the ease with which she translated. "Clever little witch."

She scowled back. "You need to stop calling me that."

He slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. He was smirking again. Always smirking. Arrogant, smug son of a –

"Make me." He challenged.

So she kissed him. Just to wipe that damned smirk off his face.

For once, she had the pleasure of catching him completely off guard, and it took him a moment to react. His lips were thin but warm again her own.

His gloved hand cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, and he was sure she would pull away then, when he was clinging to her with a hand that was nothing but bone, but she didn't. Instead, she twined her arms around his shoulders, closing what little space was left between them, pressing her body to his…

"Sadira? May I come in?"

That was the voice of Jasmine, the voice of her friend. Her friend, the princess, who had forgiven her for so much, who always asked permission before entering her home, unlike the rude, sarcastic, infuriating young sorcerer she was currently making out with.

They broke apart, and she pushed him away. "You have to go," she hissed, but he just stared at her, looking dazed. Jasmine called her name again, sounding closer now. She shoved the book into his hands.

"Mozenrath, please, you have to go_ now_!" He finally seemed to understand, and in a flash, he was gone.

Not a moment to soon. Jasmine rounded the corner. "Sadira, it's been a while since we've seen you, is everything all right …"

Her voice trailed off as she took in her friend's appearance. Sadira was flushed and breathing heavily. Jasmine's eyes darted to the cloth that was around her arm.

"What happened?"

The genuine concern in the princess' voice made her feel sick. She forced herself to smile reassuringly.

"Oh, don't worry. It's … it's nothing really. I was just trying out a new spell and … it didn't go so well, as you can see."

Jasmine approached and gingerly examined her friend's injury. "Does it hurt? I could take you to see the palace doctor …"

"No, no," Sadira said quickly. "It's fine, I've … I've already used one of my healing potions on it." She quickly unwound the fabric, to show Jasmine the unblemished skin underneath.

"See? It's like it was never there."

She only wished she could say the same about Mozenrath. It was like she could still feel his touch. What the hell had she been thinking, kissing him like that?

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little flushed."

_No. I'm not okay. Oh Jasmine, please don't hate me, I swear I won't let him hurt you, not you or Aladdin or anyone, I just wanted to learn from the best, I just wanted the challenge, the excitement, I never meant to feel_ –_ I_ don't _feel _–

"I'm fine," Sadira said, smiling so tightly she thought her face would break. "You're right, it has been a while. Can I make you some lunch while we catch up?"

-Line Break-

What the hell had he been thinking?

Oh, he could admit he found her interesting. He could admit he found her intelligent. He could even admit he found her moderately – _moderately!_ – attractive.

What he couldn't admit was that she caught him by surprise.

He was so sure she would have squirmed out of his grasp. He'd only wanted to further discomfort her, to keep her off-balance, to keep control of the situation. It didn't have anything to do with the brightness of her eyes or the softness of her lips, her skin, or the curves of her –

Mozenrath uttered a curse. Damn it, he was supposed to unsettle _her_, not the other way around!

_Focus_, he told himself. After all, it was just one kiss. It meant nothing. So he found her desirable, so what? It was just hormones. The important thing was that he still needed her help, to complete the journey to Avalon. After that, well, if he could make his puppet or his pawn, so much the better.

_I won't be wielded. I won't be your weapon._

The words she spoke his dream echoed in his head. When this was all over and he sought to conquer Agrabah, he knew, deep down, that she would not be on his side. She would fight against him. She would not bow to his power, and she would not break before his threats.

Not his stubborn, clever little witch.

It didn't matter. Not now. Now there was no conquest at hand; there was only survival or death. And survival meant catching Sadira alone as soon as possible, and setting out with her across the desert, to the sea, into the mists and towards the shores of Avalon.


	5. Chapter 5

Spellbound

Author's Note: This chapter is kind of slow in terms of plot development. Hope you still like it.

Chapter 5: Interludes

When Jasmine left her home, Sadira wanted to cry.

This was strange, because she wasn't prone to tears. In fact, she couldn't she remember shedding any for a long time. Not even for her father, who had been brave and strong and clever and had made everything right in her world. He taught her to live by her strength and her wits. He told her every day that she was the image of her mother, who had died when she was only a baby, and she loved to hear him say it, despite the fact that everyone else around them remarked on her strong resemblance to him.

When he had been struck by illness and began wasting away, Sadira did not cry. When he finally gave into the waiting specter of death, she did not cry. When she'd scraped together enough money to give him a meager ceremonial burial, and they laid him in the ground, she did not cry.

She'd tried to. She'd knelt by his grave and begged whatever gods might be listening to allow her the relief of tears, the sweet sting of grief. Anything was better than that dead, hollow ache in the center of her chest, as though her heart had been pierced and her soul had bled out through the wound. She'd stayed there for a long time, until her knees ached and the sun had gone down, but still, no tears came.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, she'd stood up, dry-eyed and silent, and walked away.

She had not cried then, when she'd wanted to, when she'd _needed_ to.

But she felt the tears pricking her eyes now.

Angrily, she rubbed them away. Her feelings were a confused jumble, but paramount among them was guilt. Although she hadn't been able to admit it to herself before, it was no coincidence she hadn't seen Jasmine or the rest of them since she'd made her bargain with Mozenrath. It was easy to tell herself she wasn't betraying them when she didn't actually have to see their faces, have to imagine the looks they would wear if they knew what she was getting up to.

Lunch with Jasmine would normally have been something she'd enjoy, but their conversation had been stilted and awkward. The princess could clearly sense something was troubling her, and said as much as she rose to leave: "If you don't feel like telling me about it right now, I understand. We haven't known each other all that long, after all. Just know that whenever you're ready to talk, you can come to me."

Jasmine had laid a hand on her shoulder then, friendly and comforting, and for one insane moment, Sadira was tempted to confess everything.

Instead, she'd just given the princess another tight smile and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

And now she was waiting dutifully for Mozenrath's return.

She supposed he might not come back. After all, she'd kept up her part of the bargain, hadn't she? She'd figured out the way to Avalon. Perhaps that meant their contract was satisfied, their lessons at an end.

And yet, somehow, she knew he was coming back. Not because of the kiss – well, _of course_, not because of that! – but because he wasn't healed yet. According to him, Avalon was deserted, but Sadira was not so sure. At the very back of the Grimorum, before the deceptively blank pages, she remembered there had been some seemingly random scribblings. Not spells, but descriptions. More like warnings, really. Written in a shaky hand, the writings were all about the inhabitants of Avalon. There may have been nothing in the book about the island itself, but the beings who lived there were another story … a story told, in small part, by the Grimorum.

They were known by many names, the book claimed. Fair folk, dark elves … she couldn't remember the rest. But the book cautioned that they were dangerous creatures: wild, capricious, and contemptuous of mortal magic. There might very well be some of them still hanging around their ancestral home, and if Mozenrath intended to go there, she had no doubt he'd want some back-up.

_He'll probably use me as human shield_, she told herself, and let out a bitter laugh at the thought. What a mess she'd gotten herself into …

As if that was his cue, the sorcerer reappeared. Sadira turned around to face him, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other. She had been so sure he was going to say something mocking and cruel, but instead, he seemed to feel as awkward as she did. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, and broke the silence with a question.

"When are we going to Avalon?"

And at that moment, it seemed they came to an unspoken agreement to pretend the kiss had never happened. Sadira felt a curious combination of relief and … something else (_not_ disappointment, surely!) as he answered her question:

"As soon as possible, of course. But first, I need you to come with me, to my kingdom."

"The Land of the Black Sand?" The idea did not appeal to her at all. When she'd first met Mozenrath, she'd taken some time to study up on the land he ruled. She knew the sorcerer Destane had ruled it before Mozenrath had overthrown him. She also knew it was empty of any living souls, except for Mozenrath – and that little eel of his, if you could count even count it. Most importantly, however, she knew it was a dead land, a dark land, and it was not a place she was eager to visit.

But she would not allow herself to show fear or weakness in front of him. "What's so important that we have to go there?" She asked evenly.

"The Cup of Life."

It took Sadira a moment to get that, until she remembered what Aladdin and Jasmine had told her – that ridiculous boy-switching plot of Mozenrath's, ending in them joining him on a reluctant quest to find said Cup.

"I thought the Cup was left there. I heard it automatically refills, waiting for the next challenger who proves worthy enough to drink from it."

"It was left there, but I managed to retrieve it." For a moment, she was tempted to ask how, but the urgency in his voice told her this wasn't the time. "We'll take it with us to Avalon."

"Why?"

"Because it was made there." _That_ caught her by surprise. "The herb I told you about, at the beginning of all this, that's the herb that makes the Elixir of Life. You're right that the Cup is supposed to refill, but when I took it away from where it was placed, I found it was empty. I even tried putting water in it, just to see what would happen, and the liquid evaporated before my eyes." He scowled, evidently frustrated by the memory. "That's when I knew I would have to go to Avalon – to re-make the Elixir straight from the source, to fill the Cup on the island and take it back with me, in case I needed more."

"You're saying the Cup has Avalon's magic?" Sadira asked incredulously. "Mozenrath, how did you even manage to handle it, with your gauntlet? Mixing magics is –"

"Dangerous, yes, yes, I know that," he finished for her impatiently. "Which is probably why the Cup remains empty. I'll need your help carrying it on the journey to Avalon. Our contract is still in effect. Consider this a final lesson, one in how to mix magics and still walk away in one piece."

_A final lesson._ So they were not quite at the end, then. But certainly very close to it.

She didn't want to ask herself how she felt about that.

"Fair enough," she said, in what she hoped was a careless tone.

"Then let's go." He held out a hand to her, his good hand, and she took it. His magic engulfed them. For a moment, she felt strangely weightless, and then the world shifted, and they were in his land, the Land of the Black Sand.

It was dark there, as it always was, and strangely cold for a desert land. Sadira suppressed a shiver and glanced around. Upon realizing they were in Mozenrath's lab, she felt less apprehensive and more curious. Here eyes darted around the room, noting several objects she wanted to get a better look at, before finally settling on the Cup of Life.

In outward appearance, it was entirely nondescript. Rather plain actually; she'd seen far more ornate goblets at the palace. But still, she could sense its power. It radiated magical energy – but definitely a different kind than that of the Grimorum. This Cup held no mortal magic, she was certain of that. It was Avalon's magic, its energy, and it seemed strangely familiar and yet, at the same time, very, very foreign. Unknowable.

"Careful," Mozenrath said as she reached for it. She glanced back at him briefly, then turned to the Cup and grasped it slowly with both hands. She lifted it up, testing its weight. It was surprisingly heavy, and she didn't think she could carry it over a long distance. Normally, she would have used a simple levitation spell, but of course –

"Don't even think about it."

She turned around to scowl at him. Was he reading her mind? "About using some incantation? Honestly, Mozenrath, after all the time we've spent together, all the lessons you've given me, do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"Of course I don't." He favored her with another one of his small, seemingly genuine smiles. It was always disconcerting to her when Mozenrath seemed genuine. She wondered if he knew that, and decided that he probably did. "But you can still be very … impulsive." He moved towards her. "Reckless, even."

"Maybe, but you like that about me," she replied before she could stop herself. _Why am I smiling?_ Wait. Was she actually _flirting_ with him? _Sadira, what are you doing, this is insane!_

He was close enough to touch her now. "You think so?" His good hand reached out, and he ran his fingers through her wild hair.

"Don't. You'll make me drop the Cup."

"Am I that distracting to you?"

"If by 'distracting' you mean 'irritating,' then yes –"

"Master?"

Sadira was so startled by the voice that she nearly did drop the Cup. Mozenrath whirled around and fixed his familiar with a deadly glare.

"_What?_"

Xerxes seemed completely at a loss. "Uh … you bring witch back?" He finally asked quietly.

"Obviously," Mozenrath snapped, and the eel cringed at his master's harsh tone. It kind of made Sadira feel sorry for the thing, despite herself. She set the Cup back down.

"So are you going to introduce me or what?"

Mozenrath turned to give her an incredulous look. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Doesn't the Lord of the Black Sand have any manners? I don't think we've ever formally met …"

"Oh for …" Mozenrath sighed. "Fine. Sadira, Xerxes. Xerxes, Sadira. Now, if we could get down to the business of planning –"

"Nice to meet you, Xerxes."

The eel stared at her as if it – he – couldn't comprehend what she'd just said. It made Sadira a little sad when she realized her small gesture of courtesy and kindness had completely baffled him.

Finally he said, "Nice … to meet you … too?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. Then he smiled, which was … well, not exactly a pretty sight, she supposed, but certainly not a frightening one. After all, it wasn't the poor creature's fault he wasn't cute and cuddly.

"Are we done being polite now?" Mozenrath asked impatiently. Sadira raised an eyebrow at him.

"Clearly, one of us is. If you were ever polite to begin with –"

"Sadira, I don't have a lot of time." His voice was low, as if it pained him to admit it, and she felt the smirk fall from her face.

"Right. Sorry. So, how exactly are we planning on getting to Avalon from here?"

"With the spell, it can be reached from any body of water," Mozenrath said.

"Well, that's …"

"Yeah, I know. Normally, it would just be a matter of teleporting ourselves to a shoreline, conjuring up a boat, but …" he frowned. "With the cup, we'll have to travel by horse or camel until we reach the sea. There'll be a ship waiting, and I've paid the captain not to ask questions. He'll drop us off in one of the lifeboats somewhere in the ocean."

"And then all we need to do is say the incantation," Sadira said. She remembered the Latin words she'd translated with surprising ease.

"Yes, that should work."

"_Should_ work? Mozenrath –"

"Relax, little witch." That damned smirk again. It made her want to –

"It'll be fine. The spell is flawless and ancient."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "So when do we leave?"

"As soon as you change."

"Change?" Sadira glanced down at her clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"_Hey!_"

"I suppose it could be worse. You could be wrapped in a burqa."

"Oh, I get it now. That's so typical. Just because a woman's not dressed like a dancing girl, you men think she looks dowdy –"

Mozenrath leered. "Princess Jasmine certainly doesn't look dowdy –"

"Don't you talk about her!" Sadira snapped, pointing a finger at him. "Jasmine is my friend."

"I only meant," Mozenrath continued, "That you might wear something a little more … stately."

"I'm not a princess, Mozenrath."

"No, you're a sorceress. A powerful one. And you should look the part."

"In case we run into anyone … unexpected?" She ventured, thinking of the supposedly abandoned island.

"Exactly."

Sadira heaved a sigh. "Fine. I'll … figure something out." She could conjure up a suitable outfit easily enough.

"Good." He said. She gave him a pointed look, but he didn't move.

"You think I'm going to let you stand there while I … change?"

"If you do it right, I shouldn't be able to see anything. Unless, of course, you want me to –"

Sadira hurled a blast of magic at him, which he easily deflected, laughing.

"Out!"

"Oh, fine. Xerxes, come."

The eel turned to follow his master, but glanced back at Sadira. "Witch looks fine just as she is," he said quickly, in a voice to low for Mozenrath to hear. She smiled at him, and he smiled back before gliding away.

When she was sure he had given her some privacy, Sadira turned and approached a mirror she had noticed earlier, in the corner of Mozenrath's lab. Near as she could tell, it was a rather standard scrying mirror. If she'd had the time, she would have gladly tested out its magical abilities, but for now, it could serve her purposes in a more mundane fashion.

She frowned at her reflection. Despite the fact that she was no longer poor, she had to admit to herself that her clothing still left much to be desired. She'd spent most of her money on food, ingredients for her potions, and scroll spells. She'd been so focused on developing her magical abilities that she honestly hadn't given much thought her appearance in a while. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to make it lie flat, which it never did. Although she was no longer jealous of Jasmine's relationship with Aladdin, she did envy the princess a bit for the way she always managed to look so put together. Jasmine's tresses were smooth and sleek – and unlike Sadira, she never seemed to have hair out of place.

Thinking about Jasmine was probably not the best idea right now, she realized, as she continued to study her reflection. _Okay, think … stately, s_he told herself. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and felt the shift of fabrics across her body. _He _better _not be watching this …_

When she opened her eyes again, Sadira was fairly satisfied with what she saw. The outfit was white, tapered in a dark blue to match her eyes. It was cinched at the waist with a sparkling silver band, the same color as her slippers. She'd chosen pants rather than a dress, since they were going to be riding. She titled her head, and then decided to pull all her hair back into a low ponytail. It might get windy, and she'd need to keep it out of her eyes. She conjured up a silver clasp and fastened her hair with it. On impulse, she created a pair of sparkling silver earrings to complete the look. Briefly, she considered adding a cape or a cloak, but decided that was pushing it. She eyed her reflection critically for a final time and decided she looked … good. Or good enough, anyway.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Mozenrath's tone was rude and impatient, though to his credit, he hadn't re-entered the room.

"Relax, I'm done."

He walked back into then, and she turned to face him. "So, does my outfit meet with your approval now?"

Mozenrath's eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

It wasn't that startling of a change, he told himself, not really. And in fact, it was far less revealing than the sort of thing that, say, Princess Jasmine typically wore. Still, he found he rather liked it – the scooped neck, and the way the fabric seemed to caress and accentuate her curves. She should dress liked this more often….

"It's … it's alright, isn't it?" She asked nervously.

"It's alright." He said. "You look fine."

"Fine?"

"Pretty," Xerxes said promptly. Mozenrath gave him a sharp look.

"What? Master said witch was pretty –"

"_Wait_, he said I was –"

"We're leaving now. Xerxes, my kingdom had _better _be in one piece when I get back. Sadira, wipe that smile off your face and come on already!"

It was only later, when they were saddled up on the horses and making their way through the desert, when things seemed less playful and more serious, that Sadira finally thought to ask about something that had been in the back of her mind ever since she'd translated the spell.

"Mozenrath, about that incantation … the one to get to Avalon…"

"Yes?" he prompted, sounding a bit irritated. Sadira got the feeling he wasn't used to this kind of travel, and that he didn't really like it.

"_Vocate venti fortunate ex rege Mabis et hic navis flugem regate ad orae Avalonis,_" She recited.

"Very good, you have it memorized," he said, somewhat sarcastically. "I did bring the Grimorum along, just in case, but even so …"

"Mozenrath." Something in her tone made him stop his mockery, and he turned to look at her.

"Before we're on Avalon, I think I need to know: Who exactly is this … Mab?"

His smile was almost feral this time, she thought, and she didn't know exactly what to make of it. "I thought you'd never ask. The Grimorum mentions her briefly. She is said to be the ruler of those who call Avalon their home. She's powerful, chaotic, and cruel."

"And we're going to just … stroll into her kingdom?"

"I told you, it's abandoned."

"Yes well, if you were certain of that, you wouldn't need me along, would you?" His silence was all the answer she needed.

"What do we do if Mab is there?"

He looked away. "Hope she considers us beneath her notice."

"Or … we have some iron handy." He looked up sharply at that, surprised, and she grinned at him. From one of her satchels she drew a long iron chain, and she showed it to him. Her other satchel contained the Cup of Life.

"Almost forgot about that part, didn't you? That for all their power, they're vulnerable to iron? Even Mab?"

He stared at her in a way that almost made her blush. "Sadira, has anyone ever told you you're too smart for your own good?"

"You know, I don't think they have. But I'll take it as a compliment."


	6. Chapter 6

Spellbound

Chapter 6: Avalon, Part One

Author's Note: Yeah, they're finally getting there! And please note, these next two chapters will be the ones that most heavily feature the "Gargoyles" crossover element. Those of you watched that show should recognize some familiar faces.

Sadira had never seen the sea.

As a street rat, she'd barely had enough to survive, much less take a trip so far from her land-locked home. And even though her station in life had improved, she still didn't have a lot of money to speak of. What coin she did have, she never thought of wasting on something as frivolous as a vacation. And what was the big deal anyway? It was just water.

And yet, now, standing here, gazing out into the seemingly endless deep blue, she had to admit it was a rather impressive sight.

The journey had been long, and a bit tedious. They'd spotted a few caravans, but no one has passed very close. What little conversation they had was primarily about their destination, and what they would do once they got there.

As they rode, Mozenrath told her that the Elixir was actually made from the petals of a flower that grew on the island. Small and white, he said, when she pressed for details. A lily perhaps, she thought. Then they'd spent some time debating whether the island was really deserted or not, with Mozenrath finally allowing that yes, there was a strong possibility some of the inhabitants were still in residence, and yes, that was why he wanted her there. And yes, she had been very clever to bring to the iron.

"What would you do without me?" Sadira had asked him, almost playfully. He gave her a look then, and her smile faded when she remembered that their association was only temporary, and that it would end as soon as this task was completed.

"I think I'll manage." He'd said, not looking at her.

"Will you?"

He'd rolled his eyes. "I've been on my own for a long time, little witch."

"So have I."

He didn't seem to have a retort for that, so the conversation came to a standstill. When the silence began to feel awkward again, she felt the need to break it.

"Mozenrath, can I ask you something, about Xerxes?"

He gave a puzzled look, and then shrugged. "What?"

"How did you … I mean, a creature like that, it doesn't just … how did you, you know … make him?"

"I didn't." That surprised her a bit. "Destane did. It was one of his little _experiments_." Mozenrath spat out the last word as though it were a curse. "As to exactly how he transformed him from an ordinary eel to a creature that could think and speak, I can't say. When I got there, he was as you see him now."

"When you got there … to the Land of the Black Sand?"

"When I got to the Citadel."

That small distinction intrigued her. She'd always assumed Mozenrath had come from another land to claim Destane's kingdom as his own, but his words seemed to imply differently. Was it possible he was actually a native of the land he'd conquered?

But that couldn't be right. They were no people there … at least, not now. But maybe, she thought, maybe once there had been. After all, the Mamlucks were the walking dead; essentially, they were reanimated corpses. All those bodies had to have come from somewhere…

It was a disturbing thought. Even so, it made sense.

"Don't," he said quietly.

"Don't what?"

"Oh come on. I can see the wheels turning in your head. You think you'll puzzle out all my secrets, don't you?"

"You have secrets?" She asked in mock-surprise.

"We all have secrets, Sadira. Or are you going to tell me you've told Jasmine and the rest about our little bargain?" His voice was harsh, and he must not have enjoyed the stricken expression on her face, because he quickly looked away.

"You really are too smart for you own good," he muttered, almost apologetically. He paused, and then added, "Destane was not kind to Xerxes."

_And you are?_ Sadira thought, but she held her tongue. He gave her a perceptive look.

"I know what you're thinking, but my treatment of Xerxes is gracious by comparison. He didn't even have a name before I showed up. Destane just called him 'the creature' or 'the thing' or maybe 'eel' if was feeling particularly generous." There was anger in his voice, and contempt, and it made Sadira wonder if there was a more personal reason Mozenrath had gone after the old sorcerer's power.

"So Destane wasn't a very nice guy," she said, wondering if she could pry any further information out of him.

Mozenrath let out a bitter laugh. "That's an understatement."

"You're not a very nice guy either, you know," she pointed out before she could stop herself.

He didn't seem offended. He simply met her gaze with an unreadable expression.

"I never pretended to be, Sadira."

There hadn't been much to say after that.

And now here they were. The sea shimmered before them, glittering like a jewel, even in the dark of the night. The ship appeared small but sturdy, much like its captain. As Mozenrath had said, the man asked few questions, especially after he was paid. His crew – if you could actually call the mere handful of men a crew – was even quieter. One of them stayed ashore, taking the horses as part of his payment, and before they knew it, they were on the sea.

Sadira stood out on the deck. Mozenrath was on the other side, she supposed, probably telling the captain where and when he wanted the ship to stop and drop them, though she knew the exact location didn't really matter. The sea wind whipped at her hair, as if determined to free it from the relative neatness of her ponytail and return it to its' usual obnoxious wildness. She supposed she could go below to avoid the wind, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to miss anything, not now, when they were so close to the end.

After a moment, she unfastened that clasp that held her hair in place, letting it flow out in the night breeze. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool, clean air, and trying not to think about much of anything.

In time, she turned, not entirely surprised to see him there, watching her.

"When?" She asked simply.

"A few more leagues out, and then he'll stop," he answered. "We'll get into one of the lifeboats, and once they're out of sight, we can use the incantation."

"And when we're done there, how do we get back?"

"Avalon will send us back to land."

"You're certain?"

"Reasonably."

"_Reasonabl_y?" She sighed. "Mozenrath –"

"It's a little late to back out now, don't you think? Come on Sadira, we're sorcerers. Between the two of us, I'm sure we'll manage." He moved closer. "You have the Cup?"

Sadira indicated the satchel by her feet. It was heavy, and she wasn't going to pick it up until she had to, but at the same time, she wasn't going to let it out of her sight. The crew seemed competent enough, but that didn't mean she trusted them not to steal from her.

"You have the iron?" She asked him.

"The chains are already on the boat, along with the Grimorum. Just in case we need them."

"Good. Then we're all set." There didn't seem to be anything else to discuss, so Sadira turned from him, to look out again at the sea. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt a tightness in her throat.

After a moment, he moved to stand by her side.

"Would you like one last lesson?" His eyes were focused on the vast expansion of water in front of them, and not on her, but she thought she detected something almost wistful in his tone.

"Sure, why not?" She managed to say.

"You need to stand like this," he said softly. He was behind her now, and his gloved hand rested on her hip, gently adjusting her stance. It still surprised him that she didn't flinch away from his touch.

Sadira felt her pulse quicken. With his other hand, he brushed her hair back from her face.

"Now," he said softly, "Look up, into the sky."

She did as he said, trying to ignore the warmth of his breath on her neck.

"Focus on the brightest star." Her gaze fixed on it, even as her heart thudded in her chest.

"And now … light our way."

The star got bigger and brighter until it seemed like a second sun, until the night sky blazed with light. Sadira gave a little gasp of pleasure.

"A bit of a parlor trick, to be sure, but useful for guiding your way through dark places."

"Thank you," she whispered, turning to face him. She wanted to say something else, but before she could find the words, his mouth captured hers in a hungry kiss.

This time there was no one to interrupt them, and Sadira clung to him, giving herself over completely to his embrace, letting herself forget everything but the pleasure of his touch.

"This doesn't have to be the end, you know," he said, when they finally came up for air.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … I mean that we could … extend the alliance between us. Come on Sadira, are you really going to be content selling potions and performing magic tricks for the rest of your life?"

"Don't forget fighting evil sorcerers…"

"I'm serious. I know the idea of having power appeals to you, even if you won't admit it. You're more ambitious than you let on. I could help you realize your ambitions, in return for help with my own." He caressed her cheek. "Think about it."

"I am thinking about it," she said softly. "I'm thinking that even if what you say is true, it wouldn't work. Because I know you."

"You think so?"

"Yes. I know you, and you don't share power. You want it all for yourself. Maybe there's a hole inside you that you're trying to fill, or maybe you've just been at it for so long that you've forgotten there's anything else."

"Oh, and what else is there?"

"Friendship, and …" Sadira swallowed. She didn't know how to finish that sentence. "Family?"

"Families die, Sadira." The intensity in his voice made her quake.

"What do you mean –?"

"Shut up," he whispered fiercely, and kissed her again. Damn, why did it have to feel so good when he did that?

When coherent thought returned, she managed to say, "When this is all over, if you try to attack Agrabah … you'll know I'll fight you."

"Funny, I never thought you were all that interested in fighting. In fact, I seem to remember hearing you were desperate for a boyfriend."

"Stop smirking. Unlike you, I actually learn from my mistakes. I have better ways to spend my time now. I don't need to go chasing after a boy."

He nuzzled her neck, and she shivered. "You wouldn't have to chase me, Sadira," he whispered.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Yeah, I know."

The ship came to a stop then, and they drew apart, not looking at each other. The captain called out something, and there was the sound of a splash – their life boat was in the water. She hefted the satchel containing the Cup onto her shoulder. One of the crew threw a rope ladder over the side of the ship, and they were helped down into the small vessel.

Once they were situated, the captain looked down at them impassively. "You know we won't be coming back for you," he cautioned them.

"We'll be fine on our own," Mozenrath said.

The man shrugged. "Our business is concluded then. Farewell, sorcerers." He turned and called for his men to sail back to shore.

When the ship was no more than a distant shape on the horizon, Mozenrath finally spoke.

"Do you want to say it, or should I?"

"What?" _Oh right, the spell. _"I'll do it." She took a deep breath and recited the incantation from mermory: "_Vocate venti fortunate ex rege Mabis et hic navis flugem regate ad orae Avalonis."_

The air seemed to shimmer around them, and the wind blew – not the sea wind, but a strange, hot sort of wind, perfuming the air with an exotic scent. Their little boat began moving of his own accord, as if it was being pulled by some unseen force. Mists and shadows swirled around them, and Sadira was both exhilarated and frightened. Silently, she slipped her hand into his. He didn't pull away.

When the mists cleared, she saw land, with three figures standing on the shore.

Beside her, Mozenrath drew in a sharp breath. Sadira didn't blame him.

Three stately women stood on the edge of Avalon. Their skin was smooth, flawless and pale, and they each wore identical, flowing white gowns. They had identical faces as well, faces of unearthly beauty, and identical cool, glittering blue eyes.

As far as Sadira could tell, the only difference between them was their hair color. The one on the right was golden-haired; the one in the middle had hair of silver. And the one on the left had hair as black as night.

All three wore matching impassive expressions, but their hands were held out, as if to ward off invaders.

And Sadira had no doubt that they could. To the untrained eye, they might have been able to pass for human, but she knew better. They radiated Otherness, and power.

"Stand aside and let us pass," Mozenrath finally said. The uncertainty in his voice was strange. He hadn't let go of her hand.

The blonde one put down her arms, smiling. "You know better than that, sorcerer," she said almost gently.

The dark-haired one lowered her arms as well, scowling. "Mab has appointed us guardians of her island," she said, in a much harsher tone.

The silver-haired one crossed her arms in front of her. "By her law, no magics may enter here, save Avalon's own."

_So the Grimorum would have to stay behind_, Sadira thought. And …

"My gauntlet." She turned to Mozenrath, who was looking down at his gloved hand with a very disquieted expression.

"Take off your little glove, sorcerer, and we _may_ consider letting you onto the isle."

Sadira looked up, but she wasn't sure which one of them had spoken. She had a feeling it didn't much matter. Mozenrath seemed at a loss.

Gently, she reached out and eased the glove off, setting it down beside the Grimorum. She knew there was nothing but bone underneath, but still, it was a disconcerting sight. She looked back up at him, noting he wouldn't meet her eyes. She hadn't realized he might actually be self-conscious about this.

From one of her pockets, Sadira produced a dark cloth. As the three watched calmly, she wrapped it around his fleshless arm until all of the bones were covered. He didn't go so far as to actually thank her, but she could tell he was grateful for the gesture.

"Now you will tell us why we should allow you to profane Avalon with your presence, mortals," the dark-haired one said.

Recovering some of his usual composure, Mozenrath smirked at her. "I can think of one reason." He picked up the Cup of Life, and held it out so they could get a good look.

The three women's faces showed matching expressions of surprise, and then indignation.

"That was forged on Avalon!" The blonde one exclaimed.

"It belongs here!" The silver-haired one said.

"You will return it to us now!" The dark-haired one snapped.

"In exchange for what?" Mozenrath asked. She regarded him contemptuously.

"We make no pacts with sorcerers," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "If you will not relinquish what is rightfully ours, we will take it – by force!"

"I don't think so." Sadira pulled out the iron chain, holding it up like a talisman, and all three women recoiled.

"You _dare _– "

"Peace, sister." The blonde silenced her with a gesture. "We are listening."

"You will allow us passage on the island, and time enough to gather –"

"The flower, yes. The one that makes the Elixir that has filled the Cup," the blonde said. "This we will agree to, provided you return to us what is ours."

"But –" Sadira interjected.

"You don't need the Cup to make the Elixir, sorceress," she said softly, anticipating Sadira's objection. "It is only a vessel."

"Avalon's vessel," the silver-haired one agreed. "It belongs here. Give it to us, and we will let you pass."

Mozenrath and Sadira exchanged glances.

"Leave the book, the glove, and the iron on the boat." The blonde's voice was not unkind. "Do this, and we will not harm you. We who are of Avalon always keep our word."

Sadira did remember reading something about that in the Grimorum. The inhabitants of the island were fond of using word play and trickery, but when they made promises, they were bound by magic to keep them.

Mozenrath let go of the Cup, and it glided as if of its own accord into their waiting hands. As one, they drew back.

"Now mortals, you may enter into Avalon."

As they stepped onto the shore and passed by the three, the silver-haired one looked at Mozenrath and said calmly, "There will come a time when you will have to choose between the two."

He stared at her, nonplussed. "Between what?"

"Life and power," she said simply. He frowned.

"I've already made that choice."

The blonde one shook her head. "We were not talking about _your_ life."

"What do you mean?" Sadira asked, but they only regarded her serenely, silent and blank. "Mozenrath, what do they mean?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do! You said you'd already made the choice."

"It's not important now. We're wasting time. Come on, we need to find that flower."

"Mozenrath –"

"We have a contract, Sadira."

She sighed. "Fine. Any idea where we start looking?" He shrugged.

"Brilliant," she said sarcastically, and strode ahead of him. Her eyes scanned the ground before her for signs of a white flower. The land was beautiful, lush with greenery. There were blossoms of several exotic colors before them, but no white ones as of yet. Slowly, they walked further inland, taking care to stay close to each other.

"Hello, little humans." Sadira looked up from scanning the foliage at the sound of the deep, rich voice. She gave a yelp and immediately jumped back, clutching at Mozenrath.

Before them stood a great grey spider of monstrous size. His back sported several blood-red stripes, and his pincers clicked as he regarded them with his many eyes. He chuckled at Sadira's obvious fright. It was a strange, rumbling sound.

"Hush now, there's no need to be so scared. You have nothing to fear from Anansi. I like mortals. Come, come, let us make a bargain –"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a different voice. Mozenrath and Sadira whirled around.

The owner of the voice floated in the air above them. He was clothed in bright colors – blue, purple and red – and his outfit was vaguely reminiscent of a jester's garb. Gold cuffs gleamed on his wrists. His ears were long and pointed, and his hair was as white as an old man's, but his face was smoothed, unlined, and ageless, his eyes a fathomless blue. Sadira was struck by the thought that he seemed at once both childlike, and older than she could ever possibly imagine.

He smiled at her. His appearance wasn't as startling as the spider's, but he was most definitely not human.

It took Sadira a minute to find her voice. "Do what?"

"Make a bargain with our eight-legged friend over here," he said, gesturing to Anansi, who clicked his pincers angrily. "He's a trickster, you see. Not a very good one, to be sure – he usually ends up being duped by the people he's conning – but who knows? He just might be able to get one over on you two –"

"Enough!" Anansi shouted. "This is no business of yours!"

He turned to the spider. "I'm making it my business. These mortals amuse me. Now shoo." He waved a hand. "Go … I don't know, catch a fly or something."

Anansi hissed. "I do not take orders from _you_."

Something in his expression shifted then. His smile did not falter, but it became … sharper, somehow.

"Are you picking a fight?" He sounded amused at the notion, but there was also a steely edge to his voice. He flashed his teeth at the spider. "Best be careful. You might not like the results."

The spider's pincers clicked a few more times, but in the end, he turned and retreated without another word. The one remaining giggled madly, and then turned back to them.

"Now, little mortals, you must tell me how you got past those three harpies. The Weird Sisters, I mean. What'd you bribe them with?"

"The Cup of Life."

"Sadira!"

"What? He just saved us from that spider thing!"

"We can't trust him," Mozenrath said firmly.

"He's quite right," he said, sounding amused. "You should never trust a trickster."

"But you said –"

"I _said_ Anansi was a trickster, if a bad one. I didn't say that I _wasn't_ one as well."

"Indeed." Mozenrath's tone was guarded. "You are the Puck, and some say you are the greatest trickster of all."

"Ah, I see my reputation precedes me. How kind of you to say so," he said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow, and Sadira fought the sudden urge to laugh. "The Cup's been missing from Avalon for quite some time – almost as long as Odin's been missing his Eye, but then, that's another story. It's a wonder they didn't just take it from you."

"We had iron." Sadira couldn't seem to stop volunteering information. Mozenrath gave her a dark look.

Puck chuckled. "Ooh, I'll bet Selene didn't like that."

"Selene?" This time it was Mozenrath who spoke.

"The black-haired one," Puck clarified. "Their dark aspect. She is Vengeance, and Fury. And Luna – the one with the silver hair – she's Fate, or so she says."

"What about the blonde?" Sadira asked.

"Oh, Phoebe? She's … Grace," Puck rolled his eyes, "Supposedly. Between you and me, I think all three are of them are boring sticks-in-the-mud, but it can be fun to piss them off." His eyes sparked with merriment and wickedness as he spoke. "Do you plan to make the Elixir of Life, then?"

"Don't, Sadira." Mozenrath cautioned before she could answer. "We can't trust him. He said so himself."

"What choice have we got?" Sadira countered, and Puck nodded.

"That's a good point. Besides, I said you _shouldn't_ trust a trickster, not that you couldn't."

Mozenrath frowned. "I fail to see the distinction."

"Then you need to pay closer attention. The flower you seek, it grows on the hill over there, right by the scrying pool." He nodded in that direction.

"You see, I'm much nicer than Anansi. Better looking, too. In fact, I'm downright adorable. Aren't I?" He gave Sadira a wide-eyed, innocent look, and this time she could not hold back the laughter. He did seem almost like a child.

Puck grinned. "See? Your girlfriend thinks so."

Mozenrath's pale face flushed. "She's _not_ my –"

Puck cut him off with a gale of laughter. "Oh, you humans _are_ such fun! I have missed the amusements of the mortal world. Perhaps it's time to pay it a visit again. Go and get your flower. Or don't. It's of no consequence to me."

And with that, he promptly disappeared.

"So, Avalon's abandoned, huh?" Sadira asked Mozenrath. He frowned.

"Okay, so clearly I was wrong about that part."

"Clearly. Well I don't know about you, but I think we ought to see what's on that hill."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end, he followed her.


	7. Chapter 7

Spellbound

Chapter 7: Avalon, Part Two

Author's Note: Back-story ahead! Well, a little bit of back-story, anyway. Also, more "Gargoyles" cameos. Just because I can.

Sadira had been right to listen to Puck.

The flower was a lily, pale and white. As the trickster had said, it grew around the scrying pool. All the flowers and greenery on Avalon were beautiful, but these small blooms were especially enchanting. They seemed to glow in the night, and when she reached down to touch one, she felt a surge of energy flow through her, and she somehow seemed to breathe deeper and easier. She had no doubt that this flower had life-restoring properties.

Sadira turned to look at Mozenrath, smiling triumphantly.

"Okay," he said, "So you were right. You don't have to look so pleased with yourself." But there was no venom in his voice, and he was smiling too, despite himself. Like her, he leaned down to touch one of the flowers, and like her, he felt the same surge of healing magic. It was quite remarkable…

Sadira had just been starting to wonder whether the flower might somehow be able to restore his right arm when the smooth surface of the scrying pool parted, and a figure emerged from the water. Mozenrath and Sadira drew together, looking warily at the latest inhabitant of Avalon to cross their path.

The woman before them had long hair, which gleamed a brighter silver than Luna's had. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer with droplets of water, and she wore a gown of white samite. Her eyes were the gray –blue of an ever shifting sea, and as she smiled at them, Sadira felt an inexplicable sense of well-being.

"Greetings, gentle mortals," she said in a clean, clear voice. "It is has been a long time since I have seen your kind on Avalon."

Sadira and Mozenrath exchanged glances. After a moment, Sadira said, "Um … hello? We're sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you, it's just, we need to make the Elixir of Life, and the Weird Sisters let us on the island, and then Puck said the flower was –"

"I know, sweet child. The flower grows at my behest. You may gather what you wish."

"Thank you," Mozenrath said. He sounded disturbingly sincere, and even a bit awe-struck, Sadira thought. Not that she could blame him. The residents of the island had to been seen to be believed.

As they knelt down and set about gently plucking the flowers from the ground, the woman added softly, "But I fear it will not be enough."

Sadira looked up. "What do you mean?" Beside her, Mozenrath tugged at her arm.

"Sadira, we've gathered as many flowers as we can, it's time to go." There was a nervous edge to his voice now, but it only made her more determined. There was _something_ he wasn't telling her.

The water-woman regarded her sadly. "You should ask him, sweet child. He knows the Elixir is only a temporary solution."

Mozenrath stood up. "That's enough," he said. "Sadira, we need to leave, now."

"No –"

"Why would you seek to keep this from her?" The woman was addressing Mozenrath now. "You know she cares for you, and you for her. She deserves to know the truth of the matter. Your gauntlet holds power too strong for any mortal to wield and live. If you had not taken it from Destane, it would have eventually destroyed him – just as it will eventually destroy you, despite all your efforts to the contrary. The Elixir may forestall the specter of death for a time, but it will only delay the inevitable. There is no more help on Avalon that I can give you, unless you chose to help yourself."

"Is that true?" Sadira turned from the woman to him. "Mozenrath, is that true?" He was silent. "Answer me!" She snapped. "Damn it, you answer me right now! You owe me that much –"

"I owe you _nothing_!" He snapped back. "We made a bargain, and when we leave this place, it will be concluded, since you've so foolishly rejected my offer of power –"

"Oh, what, I should be chasing power? Why? So I can _die_ like you?" She heard the quaver in her own voice as she spoke, and cursed herself for it.

"I have no intention of dying. If the Elixir is only a temporary solution, well, then, it gives me time to figure something else out –"

"My poor child, there is nothing to 'figure out,' as you say. The only way for you to survive is to give up the gauntlet for good."

"You stay out of this!" He snapped at her. "And I am _not_ your child!"

The woman seemed unaffected by his anger, regarding him only with sadness and pity. "You were someone's child, once," she said softly. "Or have you forgotten?"

As Sadira watched, his face drained of what little color it had. "That's … that's enough …"

"Someone's child … and someone's brother," she continued. "Did your vengeance bring them back to you? Will power fill the hollowed-out spaces in your heart? If you do not turn from this path, you will die, and you will die alone."

Before either of them had time to react to that statement, there was a rumbling that seemed to shake the very foundations of Avalon. A cold wind blew, and storm clouds seemed to form out of nothing in the sky. The foliage beneath them withered, and the land seemed to become cold and barren before their very eyes.

"You must go now!" The water-woman said urgently.

"But – what you said –"

"_Mab is coming!_ You must go now, mortals, quickly! If she catches you here …" The woman shuddered.

"You're afraid of her," Mozenrath realized. He sounded almost surprised.

Her eyes were wide. "Everyone is afraid of Queen Mab. Leave, quickly, please," she whispered. And with that, she sank back into the water, the surface closing over her form with barely a ripple.

Sadira turned to Mozenrath, but before she could speak, the earth beneath them shook again, and lightning seemed to split the sky. He grabbed her hand, and then they were running down the hill, making there way back to the shore, the terrain seeming to grown more desolate and unfamiliar with every step they took. Out the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a beautiful, ghostly looking woman, and then she heard a piercing, melodic cry, a warning: "_Mab returns!_" She looked in the other direction, and saw two dark-skinned men who looked like brothers running side by side. One of them stopped to stare at her.

"Mortals on Avalon?" He seemed shocked. The other slowed his pace to see what his companion was staring at.

"I don't believe it," he said, looking equally stunned. Then he gave a … well, a howl.

"You better clear out, humans, while you still can!" Sadira blinked, and suddenly, where the two men had been, all she could see was a bird as black as night – a raven? – and some sort of dog, fleeing into the greenery as fast as it disintegrated.

"We're trying, damn it!" Mozenrath shouted at their retreating forms.

"Are we going the right way?" Sadira asked, her voice shaking. The changes in the terrain were extreme, and highly disorienting.

"I don't know, I don't know!" She'd never heard him sound so panicked. The ground shook again, and they clung to each other to keep from falling.

There was a flash of light, and then – and then Puck was before them, looking more serious than Sadira would have ever thought him capable of being.

"This way, quickly!" He said, and they had no choice but to follow him.

Puck led them to the shore, where there was no sign of the Weird Sisters, and they saw their little boat, still floating in the water.

"Why are you helping us?" Mozenrath asked, and Puck shrugged.

"Because you amused me." Sadira smiled at him gratefully, and he smiled back, until the sound of thunder and a flash of lightning caused him to shudder.

"Ooooh, the mad old bat's in one of her moods …"

"Bet you wouldn't call her that to her face." Mozenrath muttered.

"You're damn right I wouldn't," Puck retorted, "not unless I had a death wish. Even her son wouldn't get away with that sort of talk."

"Her … son?"

"Yes, Oberon. Well_ Lord_ Oberon, I suppose I should say. Queen Mab does insist that we observe the formalities. He's much more reasonable than she is." The island gave another shake, and Puck winced, as if the changes to Avalon were physically painful for him.

"You two need to go."

"Puck, thank you," Sadira said. "Will … will you be okay?"

He tilted his head at Sadira, seeming surprised by her concern, almost touched. "My dear little mortal, don't you worry about me. I'm a favorite of Mab's son. That will shield me from her wrath." He glanced over his shoulder, and gulped. "I hope," he added in a small voice, seeming very much like a child again.

Sadira and Mozenrath got back into the boat. Puck gave it a push, and whispered "May Avalon see you safely home." They watched the island recede into the distance, and it seemed to her as though it was being swallowed up by a great black cloud.

Then she heard a sound, a terrible sound, a voice of stone, full or rage, and it frightened her more than anything ever had in her life. Mozenrath put his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest, trying to drown out the awful sound, the awful voice, but she could still hear the words:

_Where is my son, Puck? Where is my son?!_

"Don't listen," Mozenrath whispered. "Don't listen, don't look, it's nothing to do with us …" his voice trailed off, and he held her closer. She shut her eyes tight.

When she dared to open them again, a mercifully normal, non-magical, sandy shore was before them. They had returned to where the ship had set off from.

"We're back," she breathed.

"Not a moment too soon," Mozenrath said, sounding as relieved as she felt. "I think Mab would have had our hides." He picked up the Grimorum, stepped out of the boat, and then quickly helped Sadira out as well. She'd never been so grateful to simply to be standing on solid ground. She looked around her, wondering how long they'd been gone.

Then she turned, and to her dismay, saw Mozenrath unwrapping the cloth she'd put over his fleshless right arm. Before she could protest, he'd put the gauntlet back on, smiling even while he winced in pain, as the power of it flowed through him once more.

He faced her, looking almost awkward, and cleared his throat. "Well then, I guess our contract is –"

"Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded angrily. He scowled then, meeting her gaze defiantly.

"Tell you what?"

"You know what! Why didn't you tell me the Elixir was only going to be a temporary fix?"

"You didn't need to know –"

"Damn it Mozenrath, you're going to _die_, don't you realize that?" She sounded almost hysterical now. "You have to give up the gauntlet, you have to –"

"I don't_ have_ to do anything, Sadira!_ I_ make my choices, and you don't have any say in them!"

"Don't you want to live?"

"Of course I want to live! I told you, the Elixir will give me time, I'll come up with a way –"

"And what if you can't?" Her voice was shaking, and her eyes with bright with brimming tears. "What if you can't, what if you're too late, what if you …" She could finish.

For a moment, he looked almost frightened, uncertain, and then his expression hardened.

"If I can't? Well then, better to die with power than to live without it."

She stared at him, horrified.

"What happened to you?" She whispered. "Who did this, what made you this way?"

"Maybe this is just the way I am, Sadira," he said coldly. "Have you ever thought of that?"

She shook her head. "No. No, that woman, that woman on the island said … you were someone's child once."

He scoffed. "We were _all_ someone's child once, you idiot!"

She ignored the insult. "And someone's brother …"

"You shut up," he snapped. "You shut up right now, you don't _ever _talk about her!"

"Her? You had a sister, Mozenrath? What happened, did Destane –"

"What do you think, you're doing you stupid little witch?" He grabbed her. "What do you think this is? You think I'll share my little sob story with you, and everything will change?"

"Mozenrath –"

"You think I want your _pity_?"

"Please, you have to give up the gauntlet. You have to … you have to let yourself care again, about something besides power …"

"Care about what? You?" He sneered. "You think you'll _save_ me, is that it?" He pushed her away, and she began to cry in earnest. "You're a fool, Sadira. A stupid little fool. I _used_ you, because it suited my purposes. That's all. There wasn't anything more between us."

"That's not true –"

"You mean _nothing_ to me, do you understand?" His voice was low and shaky. "Nothing, _nothing_, I –"

Sadira kissed him, desperately, and he wrapped his arm around her, unable to resist the impulse to kiss her back. He clung to her, and for a moment he felt like he could drown in her.

It frightened him.

When he pulled back, Sadira whispered, "You're such a liar."

He closed his eyes. _Damn her._ This wasn't happening. He would not _let_ it happen.

"Our contract …"

"To hell with the contract!" She stroked his face. "You care for me, I know you do. Now you have to listen –"

He drew away from her then, and his expression went cold.

"Our contract," he said dispassionately. "Is at an end. Our ties are broken."

Magic sparkled in the air around them as he said the words, and then quickly faded into the dark night, as though it had never been.

"The next time we meet," he said in the same icy tone, "It will be as enemies."

"No," Sadira whispered. "Mozenrath, please, it doesn't have to be like this – _look at me_!"

He wouldn't let himself meet her eyes, wouldn't let himself see the pain that they held. "Goodbye, Sadira."

Then he used his gauntlet to disappear, and she was alone.

The dunes of the desert were barren, empty as far as the eye could see, and they echoed with the sound of Sadira's sobs.


	8. Chapter 8

Spellbound

Chapter 8: Broken

"Burn me," _she whispers._

_Her hair is as black as his, and her skin is as pale. Even the shape of her face in the same, and the cadence of her voice. It is only the eyes which are different; they are not black like his, but green, green and deep, as green as emeralds, as green as the plants their mother was once able to coax out this land which is now so barren, so black, and so cold. Those big green eyes take in everything, the horror and the blood and the destruction of it all, the terror which has rained down ever since Destane came to their land._

_More bodies fall every day, and then they rise up again, undead, soulless and mindless, minions of the sorcerer. Their parents were among the bodies to fall and rise, but that hardly matters now. Sometimes it seems to him that they never had parents at all; it's like they were just a dream he had, and all that has ever been or ever will be of family is the two of them, scrounging for food and trying desperately to outrun death itself, trying to leave this place that they once called home._

_She is his, this little one, his shadow and his burden, a tether to the humanity he's not entirely certain he wants anymore, a barrier to madness and despair._

_And now, she is dying._

_It is his fault, if only for harboring some small resentment that he had to take care of her, and guilt when he knew he couldn't. _

_He lied to her. He promised her they would leave this place; he promised her that they would both get out alive._

_It was his promise to keep, and he has broken it._

_There is nothing he can do. What meager magic he knows, what gifts they share, spells whispered in their ears from infancy by their mother … it is not enough to save her. She is dying, and it will not be long now._

_Her skin is cracked and bleeding, he pale cheeks flushed, her green eyes bright with fever._

"Burn me," _she pleads with him. He stares at her, shaking his head._

"I … I can't."

"You have to!" _Her voice rises with urgency._ "_Promise me_! You can't just bury me, you know what will happen! Promise me Mozenrath, promise me you won't let me become one of those … _things_. Those things without a soul –"

_She is wracked by spasms then, and starts coughing up blood, and tears blur his vision as he rushes to her side, muttering useless incantation in an attempt to soothe her, to ease her passage. She's so thin, so small …_

_The coughing stops, finally, but her breathing is low and ragged, and when speaks again, her voice is so weak, so faint that he has to strain to her._

"Promise you'll do it. Promise you'll burn me … after. Promise me, brother. Promise me, promise me …"

"I promise Aisha*, I promise."

_Sometimes, if he looks long enough into a fire, he still thinks he can see her frail little form being swallowed up by the flames._

_And sometimes, he can still smell her flesh burning._

Mozenrath woke with a start, feeling sick to his stomach. His arm ached badly again, and he winced as he propped himself up.

"Xerxes," he called, and the little eel floated in, looking worried.

"Master?"

"Bring me some more of the Elixir. I need another drought."

The eel nodded, and glided away, returning quickly with a small bottle. Mozenrath took it from him and downed the contents in one gulp, letting out a sigh of relief as the healing magic of the potion entered his system. The pain from the gauntlet was always there, of course, but it had receded to manageable levels now.

"Not enough left," Xerxes said worriedly. It was true that he'd been going through the Elixir more quickly than he had anticipated. Of course, he'd also been busy trying to cultivate the flower it was made from, but so far, he hadn't had any success. Still…

"It'll be plenty, until I come up with something else." He got out the bed and made his way to his lab, Xerxes trailing behind him.

A few hours later, Mozenrath was sighing at his latest futile attempt with the flower. Horticulture had never been his strong suit, but still, the process wasn't that complicated. Though really, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. There was little hope that a bloom of Avalon would thrive on mortal land, especially a land as barren as his.

And then, out of nowhere, the image of Sadira on the island entered his mind, smiling triumphantly as she reached down to touch one of the flowers …

Mozenrath uttered a curse and shoved a few of his vials off the table, not even caring when they shattered on the floor. Xerxes, who had been curled up in the corner of the lab sleeping, was startled awake by the noise.

"Master?" He asked, but Mozenrath, leaning against the table with his head down, did not respond.

"Master?" The eel repeated, and glided slowly over to him. "Master, what is wrong?"

Mozenrath sighed. "Nothing, nothing. I'm just …"

"Master miss sand witch?"

Mozenrath whirled around to face his familiar, ready to strike. "I do _not_, Xerxes! You think I would actually _miss _that annoying, infuriating, stubborn little –"

"Yes."

Mozenrath stared at him. Suddenly, he couldn't find it in him to be angry anymore. He was just … tired. Very tired.

Without another word, he sank onto the floor, his head in hands. Wordlessly, Xerxes wrapped himself around his shoulders.

Mozenrath could still remember the first time he'd done that, after he'd shown up at the Citadel, after he'd bowed and scraped and flattered until Destane finally agreed to take him on as an apprentice. It had happened after one of their "lessons," when he'd been lying in a broken, bloody heap in a corner of this very lab. His instruction in magic had been brutal, liked everything else about his interactions with Destane. But it was going to be worth it in the end …

The little eel had come to him then, had nuzzled his face, had whispered to him that he was strong, and he must get back up. That was the first time the creature had called him "Master."

"Careful," he had rasped, still lying prone on the ground. "You better not let Destane hear you call me that. He's your master, not me." But the eel had shaken his head.

"No want him as master. No serve him, not anymore. Want to serve you. Want to _help_ you."

Mozenrath had stared at him then, and the realization had finally dawned on him that he had in ally against the twisted old man. That was the same day he gave Xerxes his name.

Xerxes was not cute or cuddly. But he was unfailingly loyal, then and now.

"Xerxes miss her too."

_-Line Break-_

"Sadira!"

"You're alive!"

"We were so worried …"

"Where have you _been_?"

Sadira didn't quite understand what was going on.

After drying her tears, she had made her way from the shoreline back to her home in Agrabah. She hadn't thought that she'd been gone that long – it had taken them less than a day to travel to the sea, and they'd only spent a few hours on Avalon, tops – but now, it seemed that was not the case.

When she'd arrived at her home, Aladdin, Jasmine and the rest had all been there, apparently scouring the place for some hint of where she'd vanished to. When she protested that she'd only stepped out for a little while, they told her she'd been "missing" for several _days_ – almost a week, in fact.

"But …" she stammered in confusion. "It … it was only a few hours on the island …"

"Where? What island?" Aladdin's voice was not without suspicion. Sadira started to feel indignant about that, until she remembered that he had every right to be mistrustful of her.

"I …"

"Hey," Genie said suddenly. "Were you someplace … magical?" He poofed himself into a dog, and sniffed at her. "That scent is … familiar … and you've got magic all around you."

"Of course I've got magic all around me, I'm a witch!" Sadira snapped. But dog-Genie shook his head.

"Uh-uh. This isn't sand magic, it's …" His face took on a shocked expression, and he transformed back to his normal form, looking almost frightened. "No _way _… it _can't_ be …"

"Genie, what?" Aladdin asked anxiously, but he didn't answer.

"I'll - I'll tell you," Sadira burst out. "Aladdin, Jasmine, I'll tell you, I swear I'll tell you everything. I just … I need some time. I'm just … tired. Very tired."

Aladdin still looked dubious, but Jasmine approached her, and took both of her hands in her own. Sadira met her gaze, and her friend saw the weariness there, the sadness, the pain.

"I knew something was wrong the last time I came to visit," she said softly. "And you _do_ look really tired. We can wait to hear what happened. Right now, I'm just glad you're in one piece."

"Jasmine –" Aladdin protested, but she gave him a sharp look.

"We can wait," she said pointedly, and he fell silent. She turned back to Sadira, who enveloped Jasmine in a hug.

She didn't deserve such a good friend as the princess, she knew, but she would make this up her, and all of them. She would come clean, and then she would try to find a way to be worthy of their trust again.

"I'll come to the palace, tomorrow, I promise. And we'll talk."

Jasmine smiled at her. "Okay," she said. And then, after a few more assurances that Sadira was alright, she and the others left quietly. Genie glanced back at her once, eyes still wide with shock, but he didn't say anything.

When they were gone, Sadira sat down with a heavy sigh. She wanted to rest, she really did, but Mozenrath's cold words echoed in her head: "The next time we meet, it will be as enemies."

Sadira closed her eyes. She tried to banish all the other images from her mind: him smiling at her, smirking at her, teasing her, holding her,_ kissing_ her … no, she couldn't hold onto all that now.

What she needed to remember was that impassive expression, those heartless words, him breaking her … _their_ ties. If they were going to be enemies, well then, she would fight him, and she would fight well.

She'd learned from the best, after all.

She started by copying down the spells from the Grimorum, the ones she could remember that might prove useful, before they slipped her mind. Then she got out all her spell scrolls and went over the most powerful incantations, and all the protective charms. She practiced a few spells, and felt more tired than ever, but she would not allow herself the luxury of sleep, not yet.

Well, maybe just a moment to rest her eyes …

Sadira was nodding off, wondering sleepily if she might dare to try inventing an original spell to battle him with, when –

"Whatcha doin'?"

Sadira yelped in surprise, startled to alertness by the sound of the voice. She looked up.

"Puck!"

"Hi!" The little trickster said happily, grinning down at her from where he floated above. "Did I scare you? Sorry, didn't mean to."

Sadira smiled despite herself as he zipped around the room. Puck's energy was contagious. "Oh, but I think you _did_ mean to."

He paused to meet her gaze, and gave her his best innocent look, but gave it up when he saw she wasn't buying. "Okay, so maybe I did. But just a little. The look on your face …" He giggled. "It was funny. Were you just practicing magic?" He looked around. "And hey, where's the other –"

"Puck, does time pass differently on Avalon?" Sadira asked suddenly, cutting him off.

"Why yes, as a matter of fact, it does. You didn't get that memo? For every hour that passes on Avalon, one day goes by in your mortal world."

"A day for every hour? Well no wonder they were worried!"

"Who?"

"My friends." She paused. "Puck, is everything okay there? I mean, did you get in trouble with Mab?"

"Oh yes, that." Puck's shoulders slumped. "Well, things could have gone better I suppose, but they also could have gone worse. A lot worse. And I'm still in one piece. I think," he added, glancing down at himself, as if checking to make sure he was all there. "Things are still a bit … tense on Avalon right now though, so I thought it best to make myself scarce for a while."

"I thought as much. Puck, before we left, I … heard her voice."

Puck shivered. "Not a pleasant sound, is it? Particularly when she's angry …" he paused suddenly, sniffed, and then wrinkled his nose, as if in distaste. "Was there a genie here recently?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"The stink of his magic is in the air – whew!" Puck waved a hand in front of his face. He looked at Sadira, seeming almost angry, or hurt. "Why would you associate with someone who keeps a magical slave? I didn't think you were that kind of mortal …"

"I don't! I mean, he isn't! Genie's not a slave; Aladdin freed him."

Puck scoffed. "No, I don't believe you."

"But it's true! Aladdin used his third wish to set Genie free. He just stays with them because they're his friends now."

"Really?" Puck looked stunned. "Well, that _is _rather remarkable. Who's this Aladdin kid anyway?"

"A friend of mine. He's very noble. He's kind of a hero around here, actually …"

"Oooh, do you_ like_ him?" Puck teased.

"No," Sadira snapped, "Not like that. I mean, I did, kind of, at one time. In fact, I was even a little bit … obsessed. But I'm over that now. And besides which, his girlfriend's a princess, not to mention the best friend I've ever had."

"Well good, we wouldn't want that brooding boyfriend of yours to be jealous – what?" For at the reference to Mozenrath, Sadira's eyes had filled with tears. "Wait, what did I say? Oh come on now, don't do that. I was only just …" Puck suddenly looked extremely awkward, and taken aback. Still, he reached down and patted her arm.

"Don't cry, gentle mortal," he said softly, as Sadira wiped at her eyes. "Uh, are you okay?"

She gave him a watery smile. "Not really, but I will be. Thanks Puck, for being so nice."

"Nice? Bite your tongue, I'm not nice! I'm a hobgoblin! I am feared in field and town, I am –"

"Nice," Sadira said firmly, and Puck sighed.

"Okay, fine. Just don't tell anyone, alright? I have a reputation to uphold." He winked conspiratorially at her. "Oh, you mortals and your love affairs … it's all so silly."

"Don't you believe in love, Puck?" She wasn't sure why she was asking him, but it beat thinking about Mozenrath.

He grinned at her. "Love? Why, I think it is the most amusing of ailments a poor little soul can ever suffer from. Lord, what fools you mortals will be for it, sometimes. No offense," he added hastily.

"Don't your people fall in love?"

He shrugged. "Well Oberon does, at least." Upon her questioning look, he clarified. "When you heard Mab asking where her son was … well, he was actually with a lady friend of his. And mommy dearest doesn't approve of her, so I had to cover for him." Puck frowned at the memory. "Hope he appreciates it."

"Oh?" Sadira was intrigued despite herself. "And who's this lady friend?"

"Titania. Our illustrious queen apparently thinks she's a 'spoiled brat' who's beneath her son."

"And what do you think, Puck?"

"About Titania? Oh, I like her well enough. She's a bit contemptuous of you mortal folk, to be sure, but then, that's an unfortunate tendency with a lot of my kind. She's liked Mab without the cruelty and the madness. I could get use to her." He leaned down towards Sadira, his voice low, and added, "Between you and me, I think Avalon could use a change in management."

"And how would that work?"

"I don't know, exactly," Puck said, looking strangely serious again. "But I do know that we can't go on like this. Things are bad now for my people, little mortal. And I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better."

"I'm sorry," Sadira said sincerely, and again, he looked surprised and touched by her compassion.

"I have a feeling I might say the same about your situation," he replied softly. "You looked like you were practicing for a fight when I came in. Best be careful. You're a very powerful witch, I can tell, but you're still mortal, after all."

*Aisha – Arabic name, meaning "alive."

Author's Note: I'm sorry, everyone. I know this isn't a Gargoyles fic, but Puck absolutely _insisted_ on being in this chapter. Apparently, he thinks he's just so darn cute and charming that you all can't get enough of him.

Puck: But it's true! I _am_ adorable!

Me: Hush, I've already written tons of fics for you. Now get back to the Gargoyles forum, and stay there!

Puck: Fine. *grumbles* Katana Doshi writes better stuff for me there anyway …

Me: But seriously people, he's already pushing to be in the next chapter too. So if/when you review, please answer this question: More Puck? Yea or Nay?


	9. Chapter 9

Spellbound

Author's Note: Because most of you seem to enjoy Puck – and the clever little bugger actually managed to find a way to make his presence important to the plot – I've decided to allow him to make further "guest appearances." Rest assured, however, that I won't let him take over the story (no matter how adorable he thinks he is).

And now, let the plot commence!

Chapter 9: The Choice

"You _what_?"

Sadira had never seen Aladdin so angry.

It wasn't as though she could blame him. She'd known this moment wasn't going to be pleasant, which was why she'd been dreading telling them the truth since they left last night. Puck had provided some distraction for a while, but after seeing how tired she was, he'd taken his leave of her, remarking that he wanted to "see the sights of your fair city, dear mortal." There had been a wicked glint in his eyes that Sadira was quickly becoming familiar with, and she'd asked him if he could please leave Agrabah in one piece while he roamed about.

"I make no promises," Puck had said airily, and he'd disappeared before Sadira could get reassurance that he was just kidding. Still, she hadn't been too worried. Puck was definitely mischievous, but he didn't strike her as malevolent.

When he departed, she was left alone with her own thoughts. She was tired, so tired, but images of Mozenrath kept entering her mind, completely unbidden, and when she tried to think of something else, she could only focus on what she was going to have to say at the palace in the morning.

In the end, she'd just mixed up a sleeping potion and downed it one gulp, which led to a deep and mercifully dreamless night's rest.

She'd woken in the morning feeling nervous, but resolved. As she'd made her way to the palace, she'd looked around to see if Puck had wreaked his havoc anywhere, but the marketplace looked the same to her. For a moment she'd thought he hadn't caused any trouble at all – that is, until she actually met up with Jasmine and the rest, who looked rather weary and annoyed. Genie, she noticed, was absent from their little gathering.

"You missed a fun night," Iago had said sarcastically by way of greeting.

"What happened?"

Aladdin had frowned. "It's difficult to describe, exactly. But if I didn't know any better, I'd swear Chaos had been paying us another visit."

"Everything's alright, isn't it?" She'd asked anxiously. They'd already be mad enough when they learned about her association with Mozenrath; she didn't want to have to have to take responsibility for unleashing a potentially dangerous native of Avalon on them as well.

"It's fine, Sadira. Genie said there was some magical force at work, but he couldn't figure out the source. And whatever it was, it seems to have vanished with the dawn," Jasmine had told her. "He's still trying to track it down now, that's why he's not here."

The princess had looked a little tired as she spoke, but otherwise none the worse for the wear, and Sadira had felt a brief moment of relief before she continued. "Now, you were going to tell us where you've been? We were really worried …"

Sadira had swallowed then, nervously. "Yeah, right. Um, first let me just say that, whatever happens, you have to know I'm on your side, and I'm going to protect you …"

"Protect us?" Jasmine had asked, puzzled. "From what?"

She'd taken a deep breath. "Maybe you better sit down for this."

And then, she had told them everything, starting at the beginning, when Mozenrath had approached her with his bargain, after their battle at the palace.

Well, not _everything_. Even as guilty as she felt about it all, she still thought she was entitled to some degree of privacy, and so she had left out that parts that involved her more personal moments with the sorcerer. And though she talked a bit about the island, she didn't really discuss its inhabitants, or its supposed ruler, mostly because they would have been too difficult to describe, but partly because the magic and the wonder of it all was something she wasn't ready to share.

Also, for some weird reason, she felt that Mozenrath deserved some privacy as well. So she hadn't mentioned anything about what the water-woman had hinted at on Avalon, about him losing his parents and his sister.

Why she thought she owed him that, she didn't know.

Needless to say, by the end of her story, her friends were not happy with her. If she could even still call them her friends.

But Aladdin was the angriest of all.

"I … I just wanted to learn magic properly …"

"So you made a bargain with _Mozenrath_? What were you thinking?" He fumed. But as difficult as it was to face, his reaction wasn't the worst part.

"Sadira, how _could_ you?" Jasmine's quite reproach stung more than the full force of Aladdin's rage. "After all we've be through, why would you do this?"

"He … he was going die …" _And he still will, eventually. _She willed herself not to cry.

"Then you should have let him," Aladdin said coldly, much to everyone's shock. His loathing of Mozenrath was completely understandable; still, to hear him actually talk like that was disquieting.

"Aladdin …" Jasmine said softly, but his gaze was fixed on Sadira.

"He wasn't tricked into anything, Sadira. When he … when _we_ drank the Elixir of Life, he could have been healed then, he could have been normal, if only he'd been willing to give up that stupid gauntlet. If power means more to him than his own life, then he damn well _should _have to face the consequences of his own actions!"

"But –"

"He tried to steal my _body_ from me, Sadira." There was an intensity in his voice that she'd never heard before. "Do you know how that felt? It was worse than if he'd tried to kill me. Can you imagine what it's like, to look in the mirror and see that someone else is wearing your face as a mask? To feel like you're going crazy, being taken over … do you have any idea of how … how _violated_ I …"

Sadira felt both horrified and guilty. She hadn't given any thought to how traumatic the experience of Mozenrath's first plot to survive must have been for Aladdin.

Jasmine rushed over and put her arms around Aladdin comfortingly. He clasped her hand briefly, nodding his reassurance that he'd be alright, and then turned to Sadira again.

"How could you make a pact with someone so evil?"

"But he's not evil!" Sadira protested before she could stop herself. "I mean, not completely. There's more to him than that, I know there is!"

Jasmine stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head, her mouth hanging open. "Sadira … do you actually have _feelings _for him?"

Her face burned with shame, and she looked away.

"No! No of course I don't, I just –"

"Look at me," Jasmine demanded, and Sadira reluctantly met her gaze, her eyes filling with tears. The princess read the truth of it in her expression.

"You do," Jasmine gasped. Then she shook her head, and laughed bitterly. "Wow, Sadira. You sure know how to pick 'em." There was a hardness to the princess' voice that she'd never heard there before, and it made her heart break all over again.

"Jasmine, please –"

But then she stopped, staring at something over the princess' shoulder. Following her gaze, they all turned around – to see Xerxes, floating in the air.

"Sadira, Master is coming. Please, no fight him …"

"_Now_?" Sadira quailed. "He's coming _now_?"

She'd thought she'd have a little more time, at least. Time to prepare, time to try and protect her friends, before she had to face Mozenrath.

What if she couldn't stand against him?

No. She couldn't think like that, not now. She would make this up to them, she would make this right.

She would defend them with her life.

"I'm sorry Xerxes, but I have to." She raised her arms and recited one of the Grimorum's incantations from memory:

_Per usum meum adsumate signo tuto uto care._*

Magic sparkled around Jasmine, Aladdin, Iago, and Abu. Aladdin glared at her.

"What did you do to us?"

"You'll see," Sadira said. Suddenly, she was feeling strangely calm. _You'll see, and you might even thank me for it later, if I'm still around._

He was already here, she knew. After all the time they'd spent together, she could sense when he was near.

Sadira turned from them, to face Mozenrath.

She remembered the first time she'd encountered him, how powerful he had seemed, how she'd doubted she could match her skills against his.

Sadira could still feel the power radiating off of him, but it was different now. For one thing, she knew what that power was costing him.

And for another, this time, she was far better equipped for a fight.

They stood there, staring at each other, sizing each other up. Sadira's face held a grim determination, but Mozenrath's expression was impossible to read. After a long moment, his face broke into a sneer.

"So nice to see you again, my dear little witch. And much sooner than you expected, I trust? I always did favor the element of surprise …"

His voice trailed off, and for a beat, he waited for her to correct him, as she usually did. To tell him not to call her that, to say that her name was _Sadira_, to snap at him with all of her usual passionate spark. But she said nothing, only looked at him, her hands held up in a defensive posture, her beautiful eyes impossibly wide.

Finally, she spoke. "I won't let you take over Agrabah. And I _won't_ let you hurt my friends."

There was none of the usual fire in her voice. She spoke calmly and firmly, as if reciting a simple, immutable fact. Mozenrath felt an odd sort of fear grip him at that moment, a strong sense of déjà vu. But he forced himself to laugh cruelly.

"You actually think you can fight me?"

"It's like you said. I learned from the best."

And with that, their magics met.

Sand and lightning, fire and flood. They struck at each other with all their strength and skill, circling, weaving, and looking for weaknesses, an intimate and deadly dance. Sadira heard Aladdin's voice, coming as if from somewhere very distant, calling frantically for Genie. She was not the least bit surprised when Mozenrath paused in their battle to show Aladdin his friend, captured in something that resembled the Crystal of Ix.

"Catch!" He shouted, tossing the caged Genie in Aladdin's direction. He immediately dove and caught the object, looking for a way to get Genie out, and finding none.

Mozenrath dodged another magical blast from Sadira, and used the opportunity of Aladdin's distraction to strike at him with the gauntlet –

Only to see his magic deflected, rebounding as if off an invisible shield. He tried again, aiming at Jasmine this time, only to have the same result. Fuming, he turned to Sadira.

"_You!_" He snapped. "How –"

"The protection spell, from the Grimorum."

For a moment, he looked both frustrated and proud. "Such a clever little witch. But not clever enough. I can break your spell –"

"No you can't!" Sadira shouted. "You can't, and you know it! Not _that _spell, not one from the Grimorum Arcanorum! Why do you think I chose it in the first place? Face it, _Mozenrath_, you've lost! You taught me too well, after all."

He looked at her then, in a way that made her blood run cold. Whatever she had seen in him, whatever she had felt from him or for him that had made her think he still had a heart – it seemed to whither before her very eyes.

"There is one to way to end your spell, Sadira," he said, in a low, deadly voice. "If you die … the spell dies with you."

Sadira heard Jasmine gasp in horror. Aladdin shouted, "Mozenrath, if you hurt her, I'll –"

"Stay out of it, street rat!" The sorcerer snapped. He lit his gauntlet, and suddenly, Aladdin and the rest were in chains. Sadira's spell had prevented him from hurting them, but she'd cast it so quickly and impulsively, she hadn't thought to include protection against simple imprisonment.

_You need to be more careful_, Mozenrath had said to her, during so many of their lessons.

And damn him, he'd been right all along.

Mozenrath approached the chained Aladdin, scowling. "You thought you'd be her _hero_, was that it? Isn't one girlfriend enough for you?"

"Jealous, Mozenrath?" Aladdin taunted. For a moment, the sorcerer looked very angry, but then he just sneered again.

"Hardly. The little witch means nothing to me. And as soon as I get her to lift the spell, I'll deal with you _permanently_ …

"I'm not going to lift the spell," Sadira said calmly. He turned to her.

"Yes you are," he snapped.

Sadira folded her arms across her chest. "No, I'm not. I told you, I won't let you hurt them. At least, not while I still draw breath."

"_Sadira_ …"

"If you want to end the spell, you're going to have to kill me."

He stared at her. "You … you think I can't? You think I _won't_?"

Once again, she took on her typical defensive posture, the one she always used to ward off magical attacks.

"You can try," she said.

She was standing all wrong. He had the sudden, ridiculous urge to go over to her, to touch her, to gently adjust her stance, as he had done that night on the ship, so that at least she was doing it right. She'd come so far, but she still had much to learn. So much potential …

"Don't … don't be stupid, Sadira …"

"Too late," she said, a slight quaver in her voice. "I already did that when I got involved with _you_."

"You _will_ lift the spell!"

"I will _not_!"

"Damn it Sadira, stop being so stubborn!"

"I thought you liked that about me," she whispered. There were tears in her eyes again.

"I _hate_ that about you! You – you are the most impossible, _infuriating_ –"

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Don't think I won't do it!"

"Don't think I'll go down without a fight!"

For just a moment – perhaps she only imagined it – he looked stricken. Then his expression hardened, and he lifted his gloved hand.

"So be it," he said coldly. "One way or the other, your spell will end."

She felt the heat and power of his magic approaching her. In that moment, her courage failed, and she closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, the pain. And then, finally, she felt …

Nothing.

After a moment, when she realized she was still in one piece, she slowly opened her eyes. Then she lowered her arms, and looked at him.

He'd lowered his gloved hand, and now he was just … staring at her.

"_Damn you_, Sadira," he whispered. "What have you done to me?"

"You … you didn't kill me," she said, stunned.

"He didn't kill her," Jasmine echoed in relieved shock, but Sadira hardly heard. All her attention was focused on Mozenrath.

She walked over to where he was standing. "You didn't kill me," she repeated softly.

"I can't. You _know_ I can't."

"You … you won't hurt me," Sadira realized. "You won't hurt me, not ever."

"No, little witch, I won't hurt you. Not ever."

Sadira put a hand to his face, and he could not bring himself to pull away from her touch.

"My name," she said softly, "Is not 'little witch.' It's _Sadira_."

And then, she kissed him.

She knew Jasmine and the rest were watching, watching and probably judging, but she didn't care. And neither did he. He wrapped his arms around her, practically lifting her off the ground, and for a moment, they were the only two people in the world –

"Um, excuse me. I really hate to interrupt this beautiful, touching moment, but could one of you dear, dear little mortals be so kind as to … hide me?"

At the sound of the all-too-familiar voice, the embracing sorcerers broke apart. Along with the rest, they stared up at the owner of said voice, who floated about them all, looking very nervous indeed.

"Who are you?" Aladdin demanded, but Puck ignored him.

"Hide me," he said to Sadira. "Please?"

It took a moment for her to find her voice. "Hide you from what?"

"Hey!" Genie said suddenly. Somehow, while Mozenrath and Sadira had been … distracted, he'd managed to escape his cage, and free his friends as well. Now, he pointed angrily up the little trickster.

"That's the guy who caused all the trouble last night, I can tell!" He rolled up his sleeves. "I'll teach you to mess with my friends, you –"

"Oh come off it, big blue," Puck taunted, suddenly sounding less nervous and more amused. He bared his teeth at Genie, much has he had done with Anansi on Avalon. "I've forgotten more magic than you'll ever know –"

He was interrupted by a rumbling which seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace. The air went dark and cold, and all of them, immortals and humans alike, were filled with an enormous sense of dread.

"Hide me!" Puck said frantically, his bravado gone. He zipped down and got behind Sadira. "Hide me gentle mortal, hide me dear mortal, hide me before she comes –"

"Who?" Sadira asked, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"Queen Mab," Puck whispered. "She must have found out I lied about where Oberon was, and now she's coming to …" He couldn't finish. "Hide me, help me, please."

"Help you?" Mozenrath asked incredulously. "Even if we wanted to, how do you expect us to fight _Mab_?"

"I don't know! Get iron!" Puck exclaimed. "Get _lots _of iron! Come on, I helped you on Avalon! You owe me, mortals –"

"Will someone explain what's going on here?" Aladdin interrupted angrily. "Sadira, I know you mentioned Avalon, but who _is _this Mab? I want to know right now!"

The palace shook again, and out of nowhere, a cloud of black magic appeared. Puck gave a little squeak of terror before he spoke.

"Never thought I'd have to say this to a mortal with a genie, but … be careful what you wish for, Aladdin. You're about to found out."

*Latin, roughly translated as "Through my skill receive this protective spell to use, o precious ones."


	10. Chapter 10

Spellbound

Chapter 10: Mab

Author's Note: Yes, the much-talked-about Queen Mab is finally going to make an appearance. She's not exactly a "Gargoyles" character, per se; she was never seen or referenced on the show, but according to what series creator Greg Weisman has said on his website, she was indeed Oberon's mother, and she ruled in Avalon before he did. So I can't take credit for those concepts. However, the physical description of her in this chapter, as well as her words and actions – that's all me, my own interpretation of what the character might be like, based on Weisman's statements about her personality. Just FYI.

"Oh, I'm in trouble," Puck whispered, using the human sorceress to shield himself from view.

Sadira had no doubt about that.

Mab was regal, beautiful and terrible. Her hair was as black as night, and her skin was as white as bone. Her eyes were like two voids, dark and deep, and she got the feeling that if she looked too long, she'd be lost forever in their depths. Her gown glittered like the night sky on Avalon, and her movements were sinewy, graceful, and sharp.

Mab wore no crown. Mab needed no crown. Everything about her radiated a dangerous, unknowable power.

Silently, Sadira and Mozenrath drew together, held each other. She couldn't look away from Mab, but she had no doubt Aladdin and Jasmine were doing the same thing. Heck, even Iago and Abu were probably clinging to one other at this point. Mab was … terrifying.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the Queen of Avalon spoke, in her voice of stone.

"Where is the Puck?"

The little trickster shivered, crouching down lower behind Sadira, seeming to make himself smaller and less tangible by the minute.

"Please," Jasmine said softly. "This is my kingdom, please …"

Mab turned her black gaze on the princess. She seemed to look through her rather than at her.

"Please, my name is Jasmine, _Princess_ Jasmine, and my father rules this land. I … I would only ask you to respect…" Jasmine's voice trailed off as the full weight of Mab's stare settled on her, as her nerve failed her.

Then the Queen of Avalon laughed, a cruel and dangerous sound.

"You," she said, "are beneath. _My notice_." Her laughter faded, to be replaced by fury.

"_Where is the Puck?!_"

The palace shook again. "Genie, do something!" Aladdin whispered, turning to him. But Genie was just standing their, his eyes wide, mouth open in a silent gasp.

It wasn't as though Aladdin had never seen his friend frightened before. Sometimes, his fear had been almost comical, especially since he usually overcame it in the end. But this time was different. There was none of his usual funny flourishes; there was just raw, unadulterated terror in his eyes. It was as if he was prone, enchanted, unable to move …

And that's when Aladdin got really scared himself, more than he had been before. He held Jasmine closer, wondering what they could possibly do.

"Puck's not here," Sadira said suddenly. She felt Mozenrath tighten his grip on her.

"What are you doing?" He hissed in her ear, but she paid him no mind.

Mab's attention was now focused on Sadira, and she thought she might have passed out from the black gaze, if only he hadn't been holding her up.

The Queen of Avalon scowled at her. "The scent of his magic is all in the air," she said.

"He … he _was _here, but he's gone now. We don't know where he went … your highness." Sadira was usually a better liar, but Mab was unnerving, to say the least.

The Queen smiled at her dangerously. "Oh, I very much doubt that, _sorceress_. Puck has a fondness for those mortals who amuse him. And you _have _done that, haven't you? It's no wonder he would linger here overlong, and even seek your help."

"And_ you_ _have_ recently been in Avalon," she continued. "Both of you," she added, with a careless glance at Mozenrath, who, like the rest, shuddered under her gaze. And then there was another sudden shift in her mood, as Mab once again went from amusement to rage.

"What made you think you could profane my sacred isle, _mortals_?" She spat out the last word like a curse.

"The … Weird Sisters … they … they said we could …" Sadira stammered.

"Enough!" Mab raised her hand. The energy of her magic shot out at Sadira, and pain seared through her as it struck; she fell to the ground, but Puck was no longer behind her.

"No!" Mozenrath shouted. He lit his gauntlet, and –

Found it being pulled off his hand, as Mab crooked a single finger, looking amused once more. Her shifts in temperament struck faster than lightning.

"Hmm," she said, as she held it in her hands, examining it. "Interesting … _toy_ …"

Then she closed her fists, and it turned into dust.

Mozenrath staggered, fell to the ground in shock. Sadira felt Jasmine and Aladdin clutching at her, pulling her away against her will, dragging her behind the throne with them, as Mab approached the disarmed sorcerer. In that moment, she seemed like nothing so much as a cat that was playing with a mouse.

"Not such a powerful weapon as all that," Mab said, circling him. "And yet," she added, as her gaze fell on his fleshless arm, "I see you paid dearly for it, even so. Mortals _are _such fragile things." Mercifully, her black eyes left him for a moment, and she looked up.

"Puck," she called out, her stone voice booming across the room. "If you care for this little mortal life a whit, you had better make yourself known, before I destroy him!" A bolt of Mab's magic shot out at Mozenrath, and he moaned in pain.

They were all crouched behind the throne, Sadira struggling against her friends' grasp, when Puck suddenly reappeared.

"As a matter a fact, my queen, I _don't_ care for that little mortal life a whit, so by your leave …" he muttered, and made to retreat … until he looked at Sadira's tear-streaked face.

"Puck," she whispered. "Please …" Another bolt of magic from Mab, another cry of pain from him.

"Oh. Uh … you're not _that_ attached to brooding boyfriend, are you?"

Mab struck him again, and Sadira gasped. "Puck!"

"Oh come on! I'll get you a new one!"

"Puck, please, _please_ –"

"Okay, fine, _fine_!" He huffed. "Just … turn off the waterworks, alright? Yeesh." Puck paused, and took a deep breath, looking as though he were nerving himself.

"I am here, my queen," he said softly, emerging from behind the throne.

Mab immediately turned away from the fallen sorcerer to the little trickster. Sadira finally wrested out of her friends' grasp, and she ran over to Mozenrath. Xerxes was now floating worriedly around his master, who looked even paler than usual.

"It's okay, it's okay," Sadira said, her voice shaky. "It's okay, I won't leave you, not ever …Xerxes, where is the Elixir of life? He's been mixing up the droughts, hasn't he, taking them?"

"Yes," the eel whispered, and fished a large bottle out of one of his master's pockets. Sadira took it and helped Mozenrath up into a sitting position. She put the bottle to his lips and tilted it, allowing him to drink the healing potion.

"It'll be okay …" she muttered, though of course, she had no idea if it actually would be.

Aladdin and Jasmine might have been scared for her in that moment, but they needn't have worried. The two human sorcerers no longer seemed to exist as far as Mab was concerned.

All the power and malevolence of her black gaze was focused on Puck.

The little trickster just stood there for a moment. His blue eyes were very wide, and he looked as though he were working very hard to keep from shaking. After a beat, he sank down on one knee, bowing his head.

"My queen," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mab moved towards him, slowly. "You have deceived me, trickster," she said, in a low voice which sent shivers down everyone's spines. "You lied about my son's whereabouts."

Puck looked up for an instant. "Well, actually, my queen, I said he was in the farthest step of India, which was –"

"You neglected to mention to mention he was with _her_!"

Puck's head went down again, and his slight form trembled.

"_Why?!_"

"Because … because Oberon … because _Lord_ Oberon asked me not to tell you, my queen."

Mab scowled. "You forget your place, Puck. Oberon may be my son, blood of my blood, but it is_ I_ who rule in Avalon. And it is _me_ to whom you owe fealty. You forget that you are _mine_ to command."

Puck had no answer to that. Sadira almost couldn't believe this was the same playful, headstrong trickster who had challenged the great gray spider on Avalon. He looked so small, so scared…

"We will return to Avalon," Mab continued, in a quietly ominous voice. "And there, you will be made … an _example_ of."

Puck flinched, and then stood. "Yes, my queen," he managed to say.

Sadira was still very worried about Mozenrath, but in that moment, she found her heart going out to Puck as well. In the short time she'd known him, the little trickster had been a good friend to her. Maybe … maybe there was some way she could …?

As if reading her thoughts, Puck suddenly turned and looked at her. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. He attempted a reassuring smile, and mouthed the word _I'll be fine_.

She didn't believe him. He needed help, desperately.

But Mab's power had destroyed the gauntlet as though it were nothing but an ordinary glove. She knew own magic stood no chance against the Queen of Avalon. And she had no iron. There was nothing she could do.

Puck turned back to Mab, his head bowed. Mab raised her arms, and then, the two of them vanished, in a flash of light.

"Is it she … gone?" Sadira heard Genie ask from somewhere, in a trembling voice.

"She's gone," she said. "And she took Puck with her."

Genie and the rest emerged from behind the throne. "She took him with her?" He shuddered. "Poor little guy." He seemed to have gotten over his earlier animosity towards Puck.

"That was really stupid," Mozenrath said weakly. Sadira was relieved to hear him speak. She brushed the hair back from his face.

"What?"

"Trying to lie to Mab."

She smiled at him. "Maybe so, but it was ever stupider to try and attack her."

"Don't remind me. I don't know _what_ I was thinking –"

Suddenly, she gasped. "Mozenrath – _your arm_!"

He scowled. "Yes, I know, I've lost my gauntlet, which is what you wanted in the first place, stubborn witch, so you don't need to gloat –"

"No, no, but looked at what you've _gained_!" He looked down at his right arm, expecting to see nothing but bone, and instead he saw it was …. _normal_. His arm was flesh and blood again.

He lifted up his hand and held it to his face, eyes wide with disbelief. "How …"

"The Elixir of Life," Sadira realized. "When you drank it without the gauntlet on, that must have allowed it to fully work its healing magic." She moved so they were facing each other, and cupped his face in her hands. There were tears in her eyes again, but this time, they were not from sorrow.

"You're going to _live_," she whispered, and kissed him.


	11. Chapter 11

Spellbound

Chapter 11: Promise Kept

"Are you sure about this?"

"For the hundredth time, Jasmine, yes, I'm sure."

It had been several days since the battle at the palace, several days since she'd told her friends about the bargain with Mozenrath, several days since Mab had made her terrifying appearance in Agrabah, and spirited poor Puck away. She could still remember how it had ended, with the feel of Mozenrath's lips on hers, and his arms, both of them flesh and blood, wrapped around her. When her friends had emerged from behind the throne, she'd turned from him, for just a moment, and she'd run to Jasmine and hugged her, both of them giddy with relief.

When she'd turned back, Mozenrath had disappeared.

Sadira had not been the least bit surprised. He made not have had his gauntlet, but he still had other magics at his disposal; she should know, after all he'd taught her.

And she knew exactly why he had left.

Aladdin of course, was completely clueless. After an awkward moment, he had declared that Mozenrath had left because he knew that without his gauntlet, he stood no chance against him.

Sadira had just looked at him then, this … this _boy_ she'd once been so infatuated with. She'd looked at him, and quite suddenly, she'd known that even if Jasmine hadn't been in the picture, it would never have worked between her and Aladdin. Oh, on the surface, they shared many things in common. But on a deeper level …

"You don't understand, Aladdin. That's not why he left at all. He's afraid, all right. But not of _you_."

"No?" She had heard in his voice that he was still a little angry with her. "What's he afraid of then?"

But she'd just shaken her head. "You don't understand," she'd said again.

It wasn't long after that exchange that Sadira had announced her intentions. They had protested, of course, as she knew they would. In the end, Jasmine at least seemed to have some level of acceptance and understanding, but Aladdin remained completely baffled by her decision.

"Sadira, listen, you don't have to do this!"

"I know that, Aladdin," she said calmly. "The whole point is that I _want _to."

"Sadira, look. I know I never felt about you … the way you wanted me to feel about you. But … you _are _my friend, despite everything, and I _do_ care about you. And as your friend, I'm telling you – _you can do better_!"

"Aladdin –"

"What is this about, Sadira? Is it about gratitude, because he showed a moment of humanity for once in his miserable life and decided not to kill you? That's pretty shaky ground to build a relationship on –"

"If you recall, he also attacked Mab, even though he knew it was a potentially suicidal move on his part," she retorted, a touch snappishly. Yes, she had deceived him, but she'd made up for it. Besides which, her life was her own, and she did not need to justify her actions to him, no matter how much of a well-intentioned hero he was.

"Okay fine, but –"

"But nothing. He needs me," Sadira said simply. "And … I don't think anyone's ever really needed me before. I have to go to him."

"Sadira," Jasmine said softly, "If you he hurts you…"

Sadira just smiled. "He won't hurt me," she said. "Not ever."

They'd made a few more feeble protests, but in the end, the princess had reluctantly but sincerely wished her well – and so had Aladdin, after a sharp elbow in the ribs from Jasmine.

After that, she'd returned to her place, to pack her things. A simple spell made the entirety of her household compact and easy to carry. She took special care with all her magic scrolls.

Her eyes fell on the final spell scroll, and before she rolled it up, she noticed it was a summoning spell. Well, a summoning spell for objects, to be more precise. A shame she couldn't use it summon something else – like say, a friend who was in peril –

"Where are you going, gentle mortal?"

Sadira gave a yelp and whirled around. "Puck!" She was so happy and relieved she couldn't even scold him for startling her. Before the little trickster could say another word, she'd enveloped him a crushing hug.

"You're alive! You're alright!"

"Yes, much to my surprise, and I'm quite touched you were so worried but – ouch! Easy there, I'm still a little sore." Sadira released him, gingerly, and he winced, but then he grinned at her.

"Oh Puck, I thought Mab would have …" She couldn't finish.

"Yeah, you and me both."

"How did you convince her to spare you?"

"I didn't," he said softly. "Oberon did. He … he stood up for me." Puck sounded as though he were still surprised by this. "And then, naturally, he and mommy dearest got into a _huge_ fight, which ended with Mab threatening Titania's life. And that didn't go over well at all with her son, shockingly enough. But for his sake, she decided to be …" He rolled his eyes. "_Merciful_, and declare Titania eternally banished from Avalon instead. Should she set foot up the island again, Mab has stated she will kill her on sight."

"Wow," Sadira said, trying to process all the information he'd thrown at her. "I bet Oberon didn't like that."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Will Titania really stay away?"

"Well, if she's smart she will, at least until things cool down. But then, Oberon is currently restricted to Avalon himself, on mommy's orders, and if she can't see him …"

"She loves him," Sadira said softly. "She loves him, and she wants to be with him. She knows her place is at his side, no matter what."

Puck gave her a pointed look. "Alright, _now _you're just projecting, little mortal." He gestured to her packed belongings. "Is that where you're going, then? To be with brooding boyfriend? Oh, you don't even have to answer, I can tell by that goofy smile on your face."

Sadira laughed lightly. "You just, wait Puck. One of these days, _you'll_ fall in love –"

"Bite your tongue!"

"– And I just hope I'm there to see it."

Puck put his hands on his hips, pouting. "To gloat, you mean, more like." But then his expression softened. "Ah gentle mortal, this thing you call love, she smiles way too much. Still … I'm happy that you're happy." For just a moment, Puck was serious, and very sincere.

"But enough of this mushy stuff! Now I must take my leave of you." He leaned in conspiratorially, and told her, "Me and Raven and Coyote, we've got a plan going, and we're gonna prank Odin _real _good!"

"Uh … you and who and who are gonna prank … who?"

"Oh that's right, I forgot, you don't know all the players. Suffice it to say, a bunch of us high-tailed it out of Avalon after the latest brouhaha. The ones I mentioned, well … Odin is basically an old grump, and Coyote and Raven … they're brothers, and fellow tricksters." He winked at her. "Not as clever as me, to be sure, but they're still good for having a little fun. Heck, we might even let Anansi in on it. I bet there's some little part in the prank I could find for him to play, something that's so simple even _he_ couldn't screw it up." Puck snickered.

Sadira smiled at him. "Well, enjoy yourselves, then. But try not to get into _too_ much trouble, will you?"

Puck gave her his wide-eyed, innocent look, which would have been utterly convincing if she hadn't known better. "Trouble? Sadira, has no one ever told you?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're only in trouble if you get caught." He laughed again, and she laughed with him, and then he vanished, in a flash of light.

Sadira rolled up her final spell scroll and took one last look around to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Then she began her journey.

It didn't take that long. She used a simple transportation spell to get to the Land of the Black Sand. She could've materialized at the gates, or perhaps even in the Citadel itself, but she thought it was better this way. She needed to be able to walk through this place without flinching at the darkness, or the Mamluks.

She needed to get used to it.

The crystals above her glowed blue as she made her way. Aladdin and Jasmine had once told her that Mozenrath had put them up to alert him when a magical presence entered his kingdom. She was glad they were lighting up; she wanted him to know she was coming.

As she made her way, she passed some of the undead soldiers on their patrol, and for an instant, fear gripped her. But they did not accost her; they just followed her movements with unseeing eyes until she passed them. It was a bit unnerving, but nothing to panic over.

Finally, she approached the great doors of the Citadel. She spread her hands, focusing her magic, and they opened at her command.

When the doors parted, Mozenrath was standing there. His expression was difficult to read.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He asked softly, after a beat.

"Yes, but why should I bother with it? _You _never did."

"You … you never had a door," he muttered, and Sadira let out a little laugh. She dropped her belongings at her feet, and rushed over to him, and they wrapped their arms around each other.

When they pulled back, she started to say something, but he cut off her words with a kiss. There was something both desperate and demanding in the press of his lips on hers, but she wasn't frightened. She just felt breathless, and giddy, and _home_.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered, when they'd finally paused to catch their breath.

"You know exactly what I'm doing here, Mozenrath. After all we've been through, did you really think I'd let you get away that easy? Don't you remember what I said back in Agrabah? I won't leave you, not ever."

He closed his eyes. "Yes you will," he said. There was a quaver in his voice that she'd never heard there before.

"No, I _won't_ –"

"You don't understand, Sadira." His voice was low and intense. "Everyone that I … everyone that I have ever loved, has left. Has _died_."

"Are you saying that you love me?"

"I … I _can't _…"

"Yes you can. Because I'm never leaving you, and I don't care how afraid you are of –"

"I am _not_ afraid, little witch!" He snapped at her. But she just kissed him again, lightly.

"Liar," she said softly. "I know you are. But it's okay. I plan to spend the rest of my life assuaging your fears."

In that moment, any last vestiges of composure or coldness in him were broken. He cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her, and kissed her. "You … you can _never_ leave me," he whispered, in between kisses. "Not ever."

"I won't," she breathed. "Not ever, I promise."

"I … I _love_ you, Sadira."

"I know, Mozenrath. I know, and I love you too."

Author's Note: Yup, this is the last chapter. Sorry to spring it on you like this, but I kind of didn't realize this was the end until I started writing it. Oh, and Puck was very pleased you guys were worried about him (you know how he loves attention).

Okay, now here's a request from me: If someone can make a YouTube video of our two favorite sorcerers using the song "Spellbound" by Lacuna Coil (where do you think I got the title?), I will be so, _so_ happy and grateful. I will also do a one-shot follow-up to this story which incorporates at least one suggestion from said person.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, everyone! I would not have finished this story without your encouragement. Mozenrath/Sadira forever! I still can't believe they're not cannon.


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